THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

IRVINE 

GIFT  OF 

DOROTHEA  FRY 


She  was  like  a  picture 


THE    BELL-RINGER   OF 
CANCEL'S 


AND   OTHER  STORIES 


BY 

BRET  HARTE 


BOSTON    AND    NEW   YORK 

HOUGHTON   MIFFLIN  COMPANY 

(£fte  flifocrjji&c  prejfa  CambriDge 


PS 


Copyright,  189*, 
Br  BRET  HABTB. 

All  rights  reserved. 


CONTENTS. 


THE  BELL-RINGER  OF  ANGEL'S    ....  6 

JOHNNYBOY 65 

YOUNG  ROBIN  GRAY      ......  88 

THE  SHERIFF  OF  SISKYOU 133 

A  ROSE  OF  GLENBOGIE         .       .       .        .        .  174 

THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  HACIENDA    .        .       .  213 

CHU  CHU        .       . 279 

MY  FIRST  BOOK         .        .        .  321 


THE  BELL-RINGER  OF  ANGEL'S 


CHAPTER  I. 

WHERE  the  North  Fork  of  the  Stanislaus 
River  begins  to  lose  its  youthful  grace,  vigor, 
and  agility,  and  broadens  more  maturely 
into  the  plain,  there  is  a  little  promontory 
which  at  certain  high  stages  of  water  lies 
like  a  small  island  in  the  stream.  To  the 
strongly-marked  heroics  of  Sierran  land 
scape  it  contrasts  a  singular,  pastoral  calm. 
White  and  gray  mosses  from  the  overhang 
ing  rocks  and  feathery  alders  trail  their  fila 
ments  in  its  slow  current,  and  between  the 
woodland  openings  there  are  glimpses  of 
vivid  velvet  sward,  even  at  times  when  the 
wild  oats  and  "  wire-grasses  "  of  the  plains 
are  already  yellowing.  The  placid  river, 
unstained  at  this  point  by  mining  sluices  or 
mill  drift,  runs  clear  under  its  contemplative 
shadows.  Originally  the  camping-ground 
of  a  Digger  Chief,  it  passed  from  his  ten 
ancy  with  the  American  rifle  bullet  that  ter« 


6          THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S. 

minated  his  career.  The  pioneer  who  thus 
succeeded  to  its  attractive  calm  gave  way  in 
turn  to  a  well-directed  shot  from  the  revol 
ver  of  a  quartz-prospector,  equally  impressed 
with  the  charm  of  its  restful  tranquillity. 
How  long  he  might  have  enjoyed  its  riparian 
seclusion  is  not  known.  A  sudden  rise  of 
the  river  one  March  night  quietly  removed 
him,  together  with  the  overhanging  post  oak 
beneath  which  he  was  profoundly  but  uncon 
sciously  meditating.  The  demijohn  of  whis 
key  was  picked  up  further  down.  But  no 
other  suggestion  of  these  successive  evictions 
was  ever  visible  in  the  reposeful  serenity  of 
the  spot. 

It  was  later  occupied,  and  a  cabin  built 
upon  the  spot,  by  one  Alexander  McGee,  bet 
ter  known  as  "the  Bell-ringer  of  Angel's." 
This  euphonious  title,  which  might  have  sug 
gested  a  consistently  peaceful  occupation, 
however,  referred  to  his  accuracy  of  aim  at 
a  mechanical  target,  where  the  piercing  of 
the  bull's  eye  was  celebrated  by  the  stroke 
of  a  bell.  It  is  probable  that  this  singular 
proficiency  kept  his  investment  of  that  gentle 
seclusion  unchallenged.  At  all  events  it 
was  uninvaded.  He  shared  it  only  with  the 
birds.  •  Perhaps  some  suggestion  of  nest- 


THE  BELL-RINGER    OF  AN G ED  8.          7 

building  may  have  been  in  his  mind,  for  one 
pleasant  spring  morning  he  brought  hither 
a  wife.  It  was  his  own  ;  and  in  this  way  he 
may  be  said  to  have  introduced  that  moral 
ity  which  is  supposed  to  be  the  accompani 
ment  and  reflection  of  pastoral  life.  Mrs. 
McGee's  red  petticoat  was  sometimes  seen 
through  the  trees  —  a  cheerful  bit  of  color. 
Mrs.  McGee's  red  cheeks,  plump  little  figure, 
beribboned  hat  and  brown,  still-girlish  braids 
were  often  seen  at  sunset  on  the  river  bank, 
in  company  with  her  husband,  who  seemed 
to  be  pleased  with  the  discreet  and  distant 
admiration  that  followed  them.  Strolling 
under  the  bland  shadows  of  the  cotton- 
woods,  by  the  fading  gold  of  the  river,  he 
doubtless  felt  that  peace  which  the  mere 
world  cannot  give,  and  which  fades  not  away 
before  the  clear,  accurate  eye  of  the  perfect 
marksman. 

Their  nearest  neighbors  were  the  two 
brothers  Wayne,  who  took  up  a  claim,  and 
built  themselves  a  cabin  on  the  river  bank 
near  the  promontory.  Quiet,  simple  men, 
suspected  somewhat  of  psalm-singing,  and 
undue  retirement  on  Sundays,  they  attracted 
but  little  attention.  But  when,  through 
some  original  conception  or  painstaking  de- 


8  THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S. 

liberation,  they  turned  the  current  of  the 
river  so  as  to  restrict  the  overflow  between 
the  promontory  and  the  river  bank,  disclos 
ing  an  auriferous  "  bar  "  of  inconceivable 
richness,  and  establishing  their  theory  that 
it  was  really  the  former  channel  of  the  river, 
choked  and  diverted  through  ages  of  alluvial 
drift,  they  may  be  said  to  have  changed, 
also,  the  fortunes  of  the  little  settlement. 
Popular  feeling  and  the  new  prosperity 
which  dawned  upon  the  miners  recognized 
'•he  two  brothers  by  giving  the  name  of 
Wayne's  Bar  to  the  infant  settlement  and 
its  post-office.  The  peaceful  promontory,  al 
though  made  easier  of  access,  still  preserved 
its  calm  seclusion,  and  pretty  Mrs.  McGee 
could  contemplate  through  the  leaves  of  her 
bower  the  work  going  on  at  its  base,  her 
self  unseen.  Nevertheless,  this  Arcadian  re 
treat  was  being  slowly  and  surely  invested ; 
more  than  that,  the  character  of  its  surround 
ings  was  altered,  and  the  complexion  of  the 
river  had  changed.  The  Wayne  engines  on 
the  point  above  had  turned  the  drift  and 
debris  into  the  current  that  now  thickened 
and  ran  yellow  around  the  wooded  shore. 
The  fringes  of  this  Eden  were  already  tainted 
with  the  color  of  gold. 


THE   DELL-RINGER    OF  ANGEL'S.  9 

It  is  doubtful,  however,  if  Mrs.  McGee 
was  much  affected  by  this  sentimental  reflec 
tion,  and  her  husband,  in  a  manner,  lent 
himself  to  the  desecration  of  his  exclusive 
domain  by  accepting  a  claim  along  the  shore 
—  tendered  by  the  conscientious  Waynes 
in  compensation  for  restricting  the  approach 
to  the  promontory  —  and  thus  participated 
in  the  fortunes  of  the  Bar.  Mrs.  McGee 
amused  herself  by  watching  from  her  eyrie, 
with  a  presumably  childish  interest,  the 
operations  of  the  red-shirted  brothers  on 
the  Bar ;  her  husband,  however,  always  ac 
companying  her  when  she  crossed  the  Bar 
to  the  bank.  Some  two  or  three  other  wo 
men  —  wives  of  miners  —  had  joined  the 
camp,  but  it  was  evident  that  McGee  was  as 
little  inclined  to  intrust  his  wife  to  their 
companionship  as  to  that  of  their  husbands. 
An  opinion  obtained  that  McGee,  being  an 
old  resident,  with  alleged  high  connections 
in  Angel's,  was  inclined  to  be  aristocratic 
and  exclusive. 

Meantime,  the  two  brothers  who  had 
founded  the  fortunes  of  the  Bar  were  ac 
corded  an  equally  high  position,  with  an 
equal  amount  of  reserve.  Their  ways  were 
decidedly  not  those  of  the  other  miners,  and 


10        THE   BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S. 

were  as  efficacious  in  keeping  them  from 
familiar  advances  as  the  reputation  of  Mr. 
McGee  was  in  isolating  his  wife.  Madison 
Wayne,  the  elder,  was  tall,  well-knit  and 
spare,  reticent  in  speech  and  slow  in  deduc 
tion  ;  his  brother,  Arthur,  was  of  rounder  out 
line,  but  smaller  and  of  a  more  delicate  and 
perhaps  a  more  impressible  nature.  It  was 
believed  by  some  that  it  was  within  the  range 
of  possibility  that  Arthur  would  yet  be  seen 
"  taking  his  cocktail  like  a  white  man,"  or 
"  dropping  his  scads  "  at  draw  poker.  At 
present,  however,  they  seemed  content  to 
spend  their  evenings  in  their  own  cabin,  and 
their  Sundays  at  a  grim  Presbyterian  taber 
nacle  in  the  next  town,  to  which  they  walked 
ten  miles,  where,  it  was  currently  believed, 
"  hell  fire  was  ladled  out  free,"  and  "  infants 
damned  for  nothing."  When  they  did  not 
go  to  meeting  it  was  also  believed  that  the 
minister  came  to  them,  until  it  was  ascer 
tained  that  the  sound  of  sacred  recitation 
overheard  in  their  cabin  was  simply  Madison 
Wayne  reading  the  Bible  to  his  younger 
brother.  McGee  is  said  to  have  stopped  on 
one  of  these  occasions  —  unaccompanied  by 
his  wife  —  before  their  cabin,  moving  away 
afterwards  with  more  than  his  usual  placid 
contentment. 


THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S.       11 

It  was  about  eleven  o'clock  one  morning, 
and  Madison  Wayne  was  at  work  alone  on 
the  Bar.  Clad  in  a  dark  gray  jersey  and 
white  duck  trousers  rolled  up  over  high 
india-rubber  boots,  he  looked  not  unlike  a 
peaceful  fisherman  digging  stakes  for  his 
nets,  as  he  labored  in  the  ooze  and  gravel  of 
the  still  half-reclaimed  river  bed.  He  was 
far  out  on  the  Bar,  within  a  stone's  throw 
of  the  promontory.  Suddenly  his  quick  ear 
caught  an  unfamiliar  cry  and  splash.  Look 
ing  up  hastily,  he  saw  Mrs.  McGee's  red 
petticoat  in  the  water  under  the  singularly 
agitated  boughs  of  an  overhanging  tree. 
Madison  Wayne  ran  to  the  bank,  threw  off 
his  heavy  boots,  and  sprang  into  the  stream. 
A  few  strokes  brought  him  to  Mrs.  McGee's 
petticoat,  which,  as  he  had  wisely  surmised, 
contained  Mrs.  McGee,  who  was  still  cling 
ing  to  a  branch  of  the  tree.  Grasping  her 
waist  with  one  hand  and  the  branch  with 
the  other,  he  obtained  a  foothold  on  the 
bank,  and  dragged  her  ashore.  A  moment 
later  they  both  stood  erect  and  dripping  at 
the  foot  of  the  tree. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  the  lady. 

Wayne  glanced  around  their  seclusion 
with  his  habitual  caution,  slightly  knit  his 
brows  perplexedly,  and  said :  "  You  fell  in  ?  " 


12        THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S. 

"  I  did  n't  do  nothin'  of  the  sort.  1 
jumped  in." 

Wayne  again  looked  around  him,  as  if  ex 
pecting  her  companion,  and  squeezed  the 
water  out  of  his  thick  hair.  "  Jumped  in?  " 
he  repeated  slowly.  "  What  for  ?  " 

"  To  make  you  come  over  here,  Mad 
Wayne,"  she  said,  with  a  quick  laugh,  pu- 
ting  her  arms  akimbo. 

They  stood  looking  at  each  other,  dripping 
like  two  river  gods.  Like  them,  also, 
Wayne  had  apparently  ignored  the  fact  that 
his  trousers  were  rolled  up  above  his  bare 
knees,  and  Mrs.  McGree  that  her  red  petticoat 
clung  closely  to  her  rather  pretty  figure. 
But  he  quickly  recovered  himself.  "  You 
had  better  go  in  and  change  your  clothes," 
he  said,  with  grave  concern.  "  You  '11  take 
cold." 

She  only  shook  herself  disdainfully. 
"  I  'm  all  right,"  she  said  ;  "  but  you,  Mad 
Wayne,  what  do  you  mean  by  not  speaking 
to  me  —  not  knowing  me  ?  You  can't  say 
that  I  've  changed  like  that."  She  passed  her 
hand  down  her  long  dripping  braids  as  if  to 
press  the  water  from  them,  and  yet  with  a 
half-coquettish  suggestion  in  the  act. 

Something  struggled  up  into  the  man's 


TEE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S.       13 

face  which  was  not  there  before.  There 
was  a  new  light  in  his  grave  eyes.  "  You 
look  the  same,"  he  said  slowly;  "but  you 
are  married  —  you  have  a  husband.'* 

"You  think  that  changes  a  girl?"  she 
said,  with  a  laugh.  "  That 's  where  all  you 
men  slip  up  !  You  're  afraid  of  his  rifle  — 
that 's  the  change  that  bothers  you,  Mad." 

"  You  know  I  care  little  for  carnal  weap 
ons,"  he  said  quietly.  She  did  know  it; 
but  it  is  the  privilege  of  the  sex  to  invent 
its  facts  and  then  to  graciously  abandon 
them  as  if  they  were  only  arguments.  "  Then 
why  do  you  keep  off  from  me?  Why  do 
you  look  the  other  way  when  I  pass  ?  "  she 
said  quickly. 

"  Because  you  are  married,"  he  said  slowly. 

She  again  shook  the  water  from  her  like 
a  Newfoundland  dog.  "  That 's  it.  You  're 
mad  because  I  got  married.  You  're  mad 
because  I  would  n't  marry  you  and  your 
church  over  on  the  cross  roads,  and  sing 
faymns  with  you  and  become  Sister  Wayne. 
You  wanted  me  to  give  up  dancing  and 
buggy  ridin'  Sundays  —  and  you  're  just 
mad  because  I  didn't.  Yes,  mad  —  just 
mean,  baby  mad,  Mr.  Maddy  Wayne,  for 
all  your  Christian  resignation !  That 's 


14        THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S. 

what 's  the  matter  with  you."  Yet  she  looked 
very  pretty  and  piquant  in  her  small  spite- 
fulness,  which  was  still  so  general  and  super 
ficial  that  she  seemed  to  shake  it  out  of  her 
wet  petticoats  in  a  vicious  flap  that  dis 
closed  her  neat  ankles. 

"  You  preferred  McGee  to  me,"  he  said 
grimly.  "  I  did  n't  blame  you." 

"  Who  said  I  preferred  him?  "  she  retorted 
quickly.  "  Much  you  know !  "  Then,  with 
swift  feminine  abandonment  of  her  position, 
she  added,  with  a  little  laugh,  "  It 's  all  the 
same  whether  you  're  guarded  with  a  rifle 
or  a  Church  Presbytery,  only  "  — 

"  Only  what  ?  "  said  Madison  earnestly. 

"  There 's  men  who  'd  risk  being  shot  for 
a  girl,  that  could  n't  stand  psalm-singin' 
palaver." 

The  quick  expression  of  pain  that  passed 
over  his  hard,  dark  face  seemed  only  to 
heighten  her  pretty  mischievousness.  But 
he  simply  glanced  again  around  the  soli 
tude,  passed  his  hand  over  his  wet  sleeve, 
and  said,  "I  must  go  now;  your  husband 
would  n't  like  me  being  here." 

"  He 's  workin'  in  the  claim,  —  the  claim 
you  gave  him,"  said  Mrs.  McGee,  with  cheer 
ful  malice.  "  Wonder  what  he  'd  say  if  he 


THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S.        15 

knew  it  was  given  to  him  by  the  man  who 
used  to  spark  his  wife  only  two  years  ago  ? 
How  does  that  suit  your  Christian  conscience, 
Mad?" 

"I  should  have  told  him,  had  I  not  be 
lieved  that  everything  was  over  between  us, 
or  that  it  was  possible  that  you  and  me 
should  ever  meet  again,"  he  returned,  in  a 
tone  so  measured  that  the  girl  seemed  to 
hear  the  ring  of  the  conventicle  in  it. 

"  Should  you,  Brother  Wayne  ?  "  she  said, 
imitating  him.  "  Well,  let  me  tell  you  that 
you  are  the  one  man  on  the  Bar  that  Sandy 
has  taken  a  fancy  to." 

Madison's  sallow  cheek  colored  a  little, 
but  he  did  not  speak. 

"  Well !  "  continued  Mrs.  McGee  impa 
tiently.  "  I  don't  believe  he  'd  object  to  your 
comin'  here  to  see  me  —  if  you  cared." 

"  But  I  would  n't  care  to  come,  unless  he 
first  knew  that  I  had  been  once  engaged  to 
you,"  said  Madison  gravely. 

"  Perhaps  he  might  not  think  as  much  of 
that  as  3rou  do,"  retorted  the  woman  pertly. 
"  Every  one  is  n't  as  straitlaced  as  you, 
and  every  girl  has  had  one  or  two  engage 
ments.  But  do  as  you  like  —  stay  at  home 
if  you  want  to,  and  sing  psalms  and  read 


16        THE   BELL-RINGER    OF  ANGEL'S. 

the  Scriptures  to  that  younger  brother  of 
yours !  All  the  same,  I  'ra  thinkin'  he  'd 
rather  be  out  with  the  boys." 

"  My  brother  is  God-fearing  and  conscien 
tious,"  said  Madison  quickly.  "  You  do  not 
know  him.  You  have  never  seen  him." 

"No,"  said  Mrs.  McGee  shortly.  She 
then  gave  a  little  shiver  (that  was,  however, 
half  simulated)  in  her  wet  garments,  and 
added :  "  One  saint  was  enough  for  me ;  I 
could  n't  stand  the  whole  church,  Mad." 

"You  are  catching  cold,"  he  said  quickly, 
his  whole  face  brightening  with  a  sudden 
tenderness  that  seemed  to  transfigure  the 
dark  features.  "  I  am  keeping  you  here 
when  you  should  be  changing  your  clothes. 
Go,  I  beg  you,  at  once." 

She  stood  still  provokingly,  with  an  affec 
tation  of  wiping  her  arms  and  shoulders  and 
sopping  her  wet  dress  with  clusters  of  moss. 

"  Go,  please  do  —  Safie,  please  !  " 

"  Ah  !  "  —  she  drew  a  quick,  triumphant 
breath.  "  Then  you  '11  come  again  to  see  me, 
Mad?" 

"Yes,"  he  said  slowly,  and  even  more 
gravely  than  before. 

"  But  you  must  let  me  show  you  the  way 
out  —  round  under  those  trees  —  where  no 


THE   BELL-RINGER    OF  ANGEL'S.        17 

one  can  see  you  come."     She  held  out  her 
hand. 

"  I  '11  go  the  way  I  came,"  he  said  quietly, 
swinging  himself  silently  from  the  nearest 
bough  into  the  stream.  And  before  she 
could  utter  a  protest  he  was  striking  out  as 
silently,  hand  over  hand,  across  the  current. 


CHAPTER  H. 

A  WEEK  later  Madison  Wayne  was  seated 
alone  in  his  cabin.  His  supper  table  had 
just  been  cleared  by  his  Chinese  coolie,  as  it 
was  getting  late,  and  the  setting  sun,  which 
for  half  an  hour  had  been  persistently  mak 
ing  a  vivid  beacon  of  his  windows  for  the 
benefit  of  wayfarers  along  the  river  bank, 
had  at  last  sunk  behind  the  cottonwoods. 
His  head  was  resting  on  his  hand ;  the  book 
he  had  been  reading  when  the  light  faded 
was  lying  open  on  the  table  before  him.  In 
this  attitude  he  became  aware  of  a  hesitating 
step  on  the  gravel  outside  his  open  door. 
He  had  been  so  absorbed  that  the  approach 
of  any  figure  along  the  only  highway  —  the 
river  bank  —  had  escaped  his  observation. 
Looking  up,  he  discovered  that  Mr.  Alex 
ander  McGee  was  standing  in  the  doorway, 
his  hand  resting  lightly  on  the  jamb.  A 
sudden  color  suffused  Wayne's  cheek ;  his 
hand  reached  for  his  book,  which  he  drew 
towards  him  hurriedly,  yet  half  automati 
cally,  as  he  might  have  grasped  some  defen 
sive  weapon.  • 


THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S.       19 

The  Bell-ringer  of  Angel's  noticed  the 
act,  but  not  the  blush,  and  nodded  approv 
ingly.  "Don't  let  me  disturb  ye.  I  was 
only  meanderin'  by  and  reckoned  I  'd  say 
*  How  do  ?  '  in  passin'."  He  leaned  gently 
back  against  the  door-post,  to  do  which  com 
fortably  he  was  first  obliged  to  shift  the  re 
volver  on  his  hip.  The  sight  of  the  weapon 
brought  a  slight  contraction  to  the  brows  of 
Wayne,  but  he  gravely  said :  "  Won't  you 
come  in  ?  " 

"  It  ain't  your  prayin'  time  ?  "  said  McGee 
politely. 

"No." 

"  Nor  you  ain't  gettin'  up  lessons  outer 
the  Book  ?  "  he  continued  thoughtfully. 

"No." 

"  Cos  it  don't  seem,  so  to  speak,  you  see, 
the  square  thing  to  be  botherin'  a  man  when 
he  might  be  doin'  suthin'  else,  don't  you  see  ? 
You  understand  what  I  mean  ?  " 

It  was  his  known  peculiarity  that  he  al 
ways  seemed  to  be  suffering  from  an  inabil 
ity  to  lucid  expression,  and  the  fear  of  being 
misunderstood  in  regard  to  the  most  patent 
or  equally  the  most  unimportant  details  of 
his  speech.  All  of  which,  however,  was  in 
very  remarkable  contrast  to  his  perfectly 
clear  and  penetrating  eyes. 


20        THE   BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S. 

Wayne  gravely  assured  him  that  he  was 
not  interrupting  him  in  any  way. 

"  I  often  thought  —  that  is,  I  had  an  idea, 
you  understand  what  I  mean  —  of  stoppin' 
in  passing.  You  and  me,  you  see,  are  sorter 
alike;  we  don't  seem  to  jibe  in  with  the 
gin'ral  gait  o'  the  camp.  You  understand 
what  I  mean  ?  We  ain't  in  the  game,  eh  ? 
You  see  what  I  'm  after  ?  " 

Madison  Wayne  glanced  half  mechani 
cally  at  McGee's  revolver.  McGee's  clear 
eyes  at  once  took  in  the  glance. 

"That's  it!  You  understand?  You 
with  them  books  of  yours,  and  me  with  my 
shootin'  iron  —  we  're  sort  o'  different  from 
the  rest,  and  ought  to  be  kinder  like  part 
ners.  You  understand  what  I  mean?  We 
keep  this  camp  in  check.  We  hold  a  full 
hand,  and  don't  stand  no  bluffing.  " 

"  If  you  mean  there  is  some  effect  in 
Christian  example  and  the  life  of  a  God 
fearing  man  "  —  began  Madison  gravely. 

"  That 's  it !  God-fearin'  or  revolver- 
fearin',  it  amounts  to  the  same  when  you 
come  down  to  the  hard  pan  and  bed-rock," 
interrupted  McGee.  "  I  ain't  expectin'  you 
to  think  much  of  my  style,  but  I  go  a  heap 
on  yours,  even  if  I  can't  play  your  game. 


THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S.        21 

And  I  sez  to  my  wife,  *  Safie '  —  her  that 
trots  around  with  me  sometimes  —  I  sez, 
*  Safie,  I  oughter  know  that  man,  and  shall. 
And  I  want  you  to  know  him.'  Hoi'  on, " 
he  added  quickly,  as  Madison  rose  with  a 
flushed  face  and  a  perturbed  gesture.  "  Ye 
don't  understand !  I  see  wot 's  in  your 
mind  —  don't  you  see  ?  When  I  married  my 
wife  and  brought  her  down  here,  knowin' 
this  yer  camp,  I  sez  :  '  No  flirtin',  no  foolin', 
no  philanderin'  here,  my  dear!  You  're 
young  and  don't  know  the  ways  o'  men. 
The  first  man  I  see  you  talking  with,  I  shoot. 
You  needn't  fear,  my  dear,  for  accidents. 
I  kin  shoot  all  round  you,  under  your  arm, 
across  your  shoulders,  over  your  head  and 
between  your  fingers,  my  dear,  and  never 
start  skin  or  fringe  or  ruffle.  But  I  don't 
miss  him.  You  sorter  understand  what  I 
mean, '  sez  I,  '  so  don't ! '  Ye  noticed  how 
my  wife  is  respected,  Mr.  Wayne  ?  Queen 
Victoria  sittin'  on  her  throne  ain't  in  it  with 
my  Safie.  But  when  I  see  you  not  herdin* 
with  that  cattle,  never  liftin'  your  eyes  to  me 
or  Safie  as  we  pass,  never  hangin'  round  the 
saloons  and  jokin',  nor  winkin',  nor  slingin' 
muddy  stories  about  women,  but  prayin'  and 
readin'  Scripter  stories,  here  along  with 


22        THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S. 

your  brother,  I  sez  to  myself,  I  sez,  '  Sandy, 
ye  kin  take  off  your  revolver  and  hang  up 
your  shot  gun  when  he 's  around.  For  'twixt 
him  and  your  wife  ain't  no  revolver,  but  the 
fear  of  God  and  hell  and  damnation  and  the 
world  to  come  ! '  You  understand  what  I 
mean,  don't  ye  ?  Ye  sorter  follow  my  lead, 
eh  ?  Ye  can  see  what  I  'm  shootin'  round, 
don't  ye  ?  So  I  want  you  to  come  up  neigh 
borly  like,  and  drop  in  to  see  my  wife.  " 

Madison  Wayne's  face  became  set  and 
hard  again,  but  he  advanced  towards  McGee 
with  the  book  against  his  breast,  and  his 
finger  between  the  leaves.  "  I  already  know 
your  wife,  Mr.  McGee !  I  saw  her  before 
you  ever  met  her.  I  was  engaged  to  her ;  I 
loved  her,  and  —  as  far  as  man  may  love  the 
wife  of  another  and  keep  the  commands  of 
this  book  —  I  love  her  still !  " 

To  his  surprise,  McGee,  whose  calm  eyes 
had  never  dimmed  or  blenched,  after  regard 
ing  him  curiously,  took  the  volume  from 
him,  laid  it  on  the  table,  opened  it,  turned 
its  leaves  critically,  said  earnestly,  "  That 's 
the  law  here,  is  it  ?  "  and  then  held  out  his 
hand. 

"Shake!" 

Madison  Wayne  hesitated  —  and  then 
grasped  his  hand. 


THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S.        23 

"  Ef  I  hadJcnown  this,"  continued  McGee, 
**  I  reckon  I  would  n't  have  been  so  hard  on 
Safie  and  so  partikler.  She  's  better  than  I 
took  her  for  —  havin'  had  you  for  a  beau ! 
You  understand  what  I  mean.  You  follow 
me — don't  ye?  I  allus  kinder  wondered 
why  she  took  me,  but  sens  you  've  told  me 
that  you  used  to  spark  her,  in  your  God- 
fearin'  way,  I  reckon  it  kinder  prepared  her 
for  me.  You  understand  ?  Now  you  come 
up,  won't  ye?" 

"I  will  call  some  evening  with  my  bro 
ther,"  said  Wayne  embarrassedly. 

"  With  which  ?  "  demanded  McGee. 

"  My  brother  Arthur.  We  usually  spend 
the  evenings  together." 

McGee  paused,  leaned  against  the  door- 
post,  and,  fixing  his  clear  eyes  on  Wayne, 
said :  "  Ef  it's  all  the  same  to  you,  I  'd 
rather  you  did  not  bring  him.  You  under 
stand  what  I  mean?  You  follow  me;  no 
other  man  but  you  and  me.  I  ain't  sayin' 
anything  agin'  your  brother,  but  you  see 
how  it  is,  don't  you  ?  Just  me  and  you." 

"Very  well,  I  will  come,"  said  Wayne 
gloomily.  But  as  McGee  backed  out  of  the 
door,  he  followed  him,  hesitatingly.  Then, 
with  an  effort  he  seemed  to  recover  himself, 


24        THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  AN G ED  8. 

and  said  almost  harshly :  "  I  ought  to  tell 
you  another  thing  —  that  I  have  seen  and 
spoken  to  Mrs.  McGee  since  she  came  to 
the  Bar.  She  fell  into  the  water  last  week, 
and  I  swam  out  and  dragged  her  ashore. 
We  talked  and  spoke  of  the  past." 

"  She  fell  in,"  echoed  McGee. 

Wayne  hesitated ;  then  a  murky  blush 
came  into  his  face  as  he  slowly  repeated, 
«  She/eft  in." 

McGee's  eyes  only  brightened.  "  I  have 
been  too  hard  on  her.  She  might  have 
drowned  ef  you  had  n't  took  risks.  You 
see  ?  You  understand  what  I  mean  ?  And 
she  never  let  out  anything  about  it  —  and 
never  boasted  o'  you  helpin'  her  out.  All 
right  —  you  '11  come  along  and  see  her 
agin'."  He  turned  and  walked  cheerfully 
away. 

Wayne  reentered  the  cabin.  He  sat  for 
a  long  time  by  the  window  until  the  stars 
came  out  above  the  river,  and  another 
star,  with  which  he  had  been  long  familiar, 
took  its  place  apparently  in  the  heart  of  the 
wooded  crest  of  the  little  promontory.  Then 
the  fringing  woods  on  the  opposite  shore 
became  a  dark  level  line  across  the  land 
scape,  and  the  color  seemed  to  fade  out  of 


THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S.       25 

the  moist  shining  gravel  before  his  cabin. 
Presently  the  silhouette  of  his  dark  face  dis 
appeared  from  the  window,  and  Mr.  Me  Gee 
might  have  been  gratified  to  know  that  he 
had  slipped  to  his  knees  before  the  chair 
whereon  he  had  been  sitting,  and  that  his 
head  was  bowed  before  it  on  his  clasped 
hands.  In  a  little  while  he  rose  again,  and, 
dragging  a  battered  old  portmanteau  from 
the  corner,  took  out  a  number  of  letters  tied 
up  in  a  package,  with  which,  from  time  to 
time,  he  slowly  fed  the  flame  that  flickered 
on  his  hearth.  In  this  way  the  windows  of 
the  cabin  at  times  sprang  into  light,  mak 
ing  a  somewhat  confusing  beacon  for  the 
somewhat  confused  Arthur  Wayne,  who  was 
returning  from  a  visit  to  Angel's,  and  who 
had  fallen  into  that  slightly  morose  and  irri 
tated  state  which  follows  excessive  hilarity, 
and  is  also  apt  to  indicate  moral  misgivings. 

But  the  last  letter  was  burnt  and  the  cabin 
quite  dark  when  he  entered.  His  brother 
was  sitting  by  the  slowly  dying  fire,  and  he 
trusted  that  in  that  uncertain  light  any  ob 
servation  of  his  expression  or  manner  —  of 
which  he  himself  was  uneasily  conscious  — 
would  pass  unheeded. 

"  You  are  late,"  said  Madison  gravely. 


26        THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S. 

At  which  his  brother  rashly  assumed  the 
aggressive.  He  was  no  later  than  the  others, 
and  if  the  Rogers  boys  were  good  enough  to 
walk  with  him  for  company  he  could  n't  run 
ahead  of  them  just  because  his  brother  was 
waiting !  He  did  n't  want  any  supper,  he 
had  something  at  the  Cross  Roads  with  the 
others.  Yes !  whiskey,  if  he  wanted  to  know. 
People  could  n't  keep  coffee  and  temperance 
drinks  just  to  please  him  and  his  brother, 
and  he  was  n't  goin'  to  insult  the  others 
by  standing  aloof.  Anyhow,  he  had  never 
taken  the  pledge,  and  as  long  as  he  had  n't 
he  could  n't  see  why  he  should  refuse  a 
single  glass.  As  it  was,  everybody  said  he 
was  a  milksop,  and  a  tender-foot,  and  he 
was  just  sick  of  it. 

Madison  rose  and  lit  a  candle  and  held 
it  up  before  his  brother's  face.  It  was  a 
handsome,  youthful  face  that  looked  into 
his,  flushed  with  the  excitement  of  novel 
experiences  and  perhaps  a  more  material 
stimulation.  The  little  silken  moustache 
was  ostentatiously  curled,  the  brown  curls 
were  redolent  of  bear's  grease.  Yet  there 
was  a  certain  boyish  timidity  and  nervous 
ness  in  the  defiance  of  his  blue  eyes  that 
momentarily  touched  the  elder  brother. 


THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S.       27 

"  I  've  been  too  hard  with  him,"  he  said  to 
himself,  half  consciously  recalling  what  Mc- 
Gee  had  said  of  Safie.  He  put  the  candle 
down,  laid  his  hand  gently  on  Arthur's 
shoulder,  and  said,  with  a  certain  cautious 
tenderness,  "  Come,  Arty,  sit  down  and  tell 
me  all  about  it." 

Whereupon  the  mercurial  Arthur,  not 
only  relieved  of  his  nervousness  but  of  his 
previous  ethical  doubts  and  remorse,  became 
gay  and  voluble.  He  had  finished  his  pur 
chases  at  Angel's,  and  the  storekeeper  had 
introduced  him  to  Colonel  Starbottle,  of 
Kentucky,  as  one  of  "  the  Waynes  who  had 
made  Wayne's  Bar  famous."  Colonel  Star- 
bottle  had  said  in  his  pompous  fashion  — 
yet  he  was  not  such  a  bad  fellow,  after  all 
—  that  the  Waynes  ought  to  be  represented 
in  the  Councils  of  the  State,  and  that  he, 
Starbottle,  would  be  proud  to  nominate 
Madison  for  the  next  Legislature  and  run 
him,  too.  "  And  you  know,  really,  Mad,  if 
you  mixed  a  little  more  with  folks,  and  they 
were  n't  —  well,  sorter  afraid  of  you  —  you 
could  do  it.  Why,  I  've  made  a  heap  o' 
friends  over  there,  just  by  goin'  round  a 
little,  and  one  of  old  Selvedge's  girls  —  the 
storekeeper,  you  know  —  said  from  what 


28        THE  BELL-RINGER    OF   ANGEL'S. 

she  'd  heard  of  us,  she  always  thought  I  was 
about  fifty,  and  turned  up  the  whites  of  my 
eyes  instead  of  the  ends  of  my  moustache  ! 
She  's  mighty  smart !  Then  the  Postmaster 
has  got  his  wife  and  three  daughters  out 
from  the  States,  and  they  've  asked  me  to 
come  over  to  their  church  festival  next 
week.  It  is  n't  our  church,  of  course,  but  I 
suppose  it 's  all  right." 

This  and  much  more  with  the  volubility 
of  relieved  feelings.  When  he  stopped, 
out  of  breath,  Madison  said,  "  I  have  had  a 
visitor  since  you  left  —  Mr.  McGee." 

"  And  his  wife  ?  "  asked  Arthur  quickly. 

Madison  flushed  slightly.  "  No  ;  but  he 
asked  me  to  go  and  see  her." 

"  That 's  her  doin',  then,"  returned  Ar 
thur,  with  a  laugh.  "  She  's  always  lookin' 
round  the  corners  of  her  eyes  at  me  when 
she  passes.  Why,  John  Rogers  was  joking 
me  about  her  only  yesterday,  and  said  Mc 
Gee  would  blow  a  hole  through  me  some 
of  these  days  if  I  didn't  look  out!  Of 
course,"  lie  added,  affectedly  curling  his 
moustache,  "that's  nonsense!  But  you 
know  how  they  talk,  and  she  's  too  pretty 
for  that  fellow  McGee." 

"  She  has  found  a  careful  helpmeet  in  her 


THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S.        29 

husband,"  said  Madison  sternly,  "  and  it  '3 
neither  seemly  nor  Christian  in  you,  Ar 
thur,  to  repeat  the  idle,  profane  gossip  of 
the  Bar.  I  knew  her  before  her  marriage, 
and  if  she  was  not  a  professing  Christian, 
she  was,  and  is,  a  pure,  good  woman  !  Let 
us  have  no  more  of  this." 

Whether  impressed  by  the  tone  of  his 
brother's  voice,  or  only  affected  by  his  own 
mercurial  nature,  Arthur  changed  the  sub 
ject  to  further  voluble  reminiscences  of  his 
trip  to  Angel's.  Yet  he  did  not  seem 
embarrassed  nor  disconcerted  when  his 
brother,  in  the  midst  of  his  speech,  placed 
the  candle  and  the  Bible  on  the  table,  with 
two  chairs  before  it.  He  listened  to  Madi 
son's  monotonous  reading  of  the  evening 
exercise  with  equally  monotonous  respect. 
Then  they  both  arose,  without  looking  at 
each  other,  but  with  equally  set  and  stolid 
faces,  and  knelt  down  before  their  respec 
tive  chairs,  clasping  the  back  with  both 
hands,  and  occasionally  drawing  the  hard, 
wooden  frames  against  their  breasts  convul 
sively,  as  if  it  were  a  penitential  act.  It 
was  the  elder  brother  who  that  night  prayed 
aloud.  It  was  his  voice  that  rose  higher  by 
degrees  above  the  low  roof  and  encompass- 


30        THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S. 

ing  walls,  the  level  river  camp  lights  that 
trembled  through  the  window,  the  dark  belt 
of  riverside  trees,  and  the  light  on  the  pro 
montory's  crest  —  up  to  the  tranquil,  pas 
sionless  stars  themselves. 

With  those  confidences  to  his  Maker  this 
chronicle  does  not  lie  —  obtrusive  and  osten 
tatious  though  they  were  in  tone  and  atti 
tude.  Enough  that  they  were  a  general 
arraignment  of  humanity,  the  Bar,  himself, 
and  his  brother,  and  indeed  much  that  the 
same  Maker  had  created  and  permitted. 
That  through  this  hopeless  denunciation 
still  lingered  some  human  feeling  and  ten 
derness  might  have  been  shown  by  the  fact 
that  at  its  close  his  hands  trembled  and  his 
face  was  bedewed  by  tears.  And  his  bro 
ther  was  so  deeply  affected  that  he  resolved 
hereafter  to  avoid  all  evening  prayersc 


CHAPTER  III. 

IT  was  a  week  later  that  Madison  "Wayne 
and  Mr.  McGee  were  seen,  to  the  astonish 
ment  of  the  Bar,  leisurely  walking  together 
in  the  direction  of  the  promontory.  Here 
they  disappeared,  entering  a  damp  fringe  of 
willows  and  laurels  that  seemed  to  mark 
its  limits,  and  gradually  ascending  some 
thickly-wooded  trail,  until  they  reached  its 
crest,  which,  to  Madison's  surprise,  was 
cleared  and  open,  and  showed  an  acre  or 
two  of  rude  cultivation.  Here,  too,  stood 
the  McGees'  conjugal  home  —  a  small,  four- 
roomed  house,  but  so  peculiar  and  foreign 
in  aspect  that  it  at  once  challenged  even 
Madison's  abstracted  attention.  It  was  a 
tiny  Swiss  chalet,  built  in  sections,  and 
originally  packed  in  cases,  —  one  of  the 
early  importations  from  Europe  to  Cali 
fornia  after  the  gold  discovery,  when  the 
country  was  supposed  to  be  a  woodless  wil 
derness.  Mr.  McGee  explained,  with  his 
usual  laborious  care,  how  he  had  bought  it 
at  Marysville,  not  only  for  its  picturesque- 


32        THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S. 

ness,  but  because  in  its  unsuggestive  pack 
ing-cases  it  offered  no  indication  to  the 
curious  miners,  and  could  be  put  up  by  him 
self  and  a  single  uncommunicative  China 
man,  without  any  one  else  being  aware  of 
its  existence.  There  was,  indeed,  something 
quaint  in  this  fragment  of  Old  World  handi 
craft,  with  its  smooth- jointed  paneling,  in 
two  colors,  its  little  lozenge  fretwork,  its 
lapped  roof,  overhanging  eaves,  and  minia 
ture  gallery.  Inartistic  as  Madison  was  — . . 
like  most  men  of  rigidly  rectangular  mind 
and  principle  —  and  accustomed  to  the  bleak 
and  economic  sufficiency  of  the  Californian 
miner's  cabin,  he  was  touched  strangely  by 
its  novel  grace  and  freshness.  It  reminded 
him  of  her ;  he  had  a  new  respect  for  this 
rough,  sinful  man  who  had  thus  idealized 
his  wife  in  her  dwelling.  Already  a  few 
Madeira  vines  and  a  Cherokee  rose  clam 
bered  up  the  gallery.  And  here  Mrs.  Mc- 
Gee  was  sitting. 

In  the  face  that  she  turned  upon  the  two 
men  Madison  could  see  that  she  was  not 
expecting  them,  and  even  in  the  slight  curi 
osity  with  which  she  glanced  at  her  hus 
band,  that  evidently  he  had  said  nothing  of 
his  previous  visit  or  invitation.  And  this 


THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S.        33 

conviction  became  certainty  at  Mr.  McGee's 
first  words. 

"  I  've  brought  you  an  ole  friend,  Safie. 
He  used  to  spark  ye  once  at  Angel's  afore 
my  time  —  he  told  me  so ;  he  picked  ye 
outer  the  water  here  —  he  told  me  that,  too. 
Ye  mind  that  I  said  afore  that  he  was  the 
only  man  I  wanted  ter  know  ;  I  reckon  now 
it  seems  the  square  thing  that  he  should  be 
the  one  man  you  wanted  ter  know,  too. 
You  understand  what  I  mean  —  you  follow 
me,  don't  you  ?  " 

Whether  or  not  Mrs.  McGee  did  follow 
him,  she  exhibited  neither  concern,  solici 
tude,  nor  the  least  embarrassment.  An  ex 
perienced  lover  might  have  augured  ill  from 
this  total  absence  of  self -consciousness.  But 
Madison  was  not  an  experienced  lover.  He 
accepted  her  amused  smile  as  a  recognition 
of  his  feelings,  trembled  at  the  touch  of  her 
cool  hands,  as  if  it  had  been  a  warm  pres 
sure,  and  scarcely  dared  to  meet  her  mali 
ciously  laughing  eyes.  When  he  had  fol 
lowed  Mr.  McGee  to  the  little  gallery,  the 
previous  occupation  of  Mrs.  McGee  when 
they  arrived  was  explained.  From  that 
slight  elevation  there  was  a  perfect  view 
over  the  whole  landscape  and  river  below  j 


34        THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S. 

the  Bar  stretched  out  as  a  map  at  her  feet  ; 
in  that  clear,  transparent  air  she  could  see 
every  movement  and  gesture  of  Wayne's 
brother,  all  unconscious  of  that  surveillance, 
at  work  on  the  Bar.  For  an  instant  Madi 
son's  sallow  cheek  reddened,  he  knew  not 
why ;  a  remorseful  feeling  that  he  ought  to 
be  there  with  Arthur  came  over  him.  Mrs. 
McGee's  voice  seemed  to  answer  his  thought. 
"  You  can  see  everything  that 's  going  on 
down  there  without  being  seen  yourself. 
It 's  good  fun  for  me  sometimes.  The  other 
day  I  saw  that  young  Carpenter  hanging 
round  Mrs.  Rogers's  cabin  in  the  bush  when 
old  Rogers  was  away.  And  I  saw  her  creep 
out  and  join  him,  never  thinking  any  one 
could  see  her  ! " 

She  laughed,  seeking  Madison's  averted 
eyes,  yet  scarcely  noticing  his  suddenly  con 
tracted  brows.  Mr.  McGee  alone  responded. 

"That's  why,"  he  said,  explanatorily,  to 
Madison,  "  I  don't  allow  to  have  my  Safie  go 
round  with  those  women.  Not  as  I  ever  see 
anything  o'  that  sort  goin'  on,  or  keer  to 
look,  but  on  gin'ral  principles.  You  under 
stand  what  I  mean." 

"  That 's  your  brother  over  there,  is  n't 
it  ?  "  said  Mrs.  McGee,  turning  to  Madison 


THE   BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S.        35 

and  calmly  ignoring  her  husband's  explana 
tion,  as  she  indicated  the  distant  Arthur. 
"  Why  did  n't  you  bring  him  along  with 
you?" 

Madison  hesitated,  and  looked  at  McGee. 
"  He  was  n't  asked,"  said  that  gentleman 
cheerfully.  "  One 's  company,  two 's  none ! 
You  don't  know  him,  my  dear ;  and  this  yer 
ain't  a  gin'ral  invitation  to  the  Bar.  You 
follow  me  ?  " 

To  this  Mrs.  McGee  made  no  comment, 
but  proceeded  to  show  Madison  over  the 
little  cottage.  Yet  in  a  narrow  passage  she 
managed  to  touch  his  hand,  lingered  to  let 
her  husband  precede  them  from  one  room  to 
another,  and  once  or  twice  looked  meaningly 
into  his  eyes  over  McGee's  shoulder.  Dis 
concerted  and  embarrassed,  he  tried  to  utter 
a  few  commonplaces,  but  so  constrainedly 
that  even  McGee  presently  noticed  it.  And 
the  result  was  still  more  embarrassing. 

"  Look  yer,"  he  said,  suddenly  turning  to 
them  both.  "  I  reckon  as  how  you  two 
wanter  talk  over  old  times,  and  I'll  just 
meander  over  to  the  claim,  and  do  a  spell  o' 
work.  Don't  mind  me.  And  if  he  "  —  indi 
cating  Madison  with  his  finger  —  "  gets  on 
ter  religion,  don't  you  mind  him.  It  won't 


36         THE   BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S. 

hurt  you,  Safie,  —  no  more  nor  my  revolver, 
—  but  it 's  pow'ful  persuadin',  and  you  un 
derstand  me?  You  follow  me?  Well,  so 
long !  " 

He  turned  away  quickly,  and  was  pres 
ently  lost  among  the  trees.  For  an  instant 
the  embarrassed  Madison  thought  of  follow 
ing  him ;  but  he  was  confronted  by  Mrs. 
McGee's  wicked  eyes  and  smiling  face  be 
tween  him  and  the  door.  Composing  her 
self,  however,  with  a  simulation  of  perfect 
gravity  she  pointed  to  a  chair. 

"Sit  down,  Brother  Wayne.  If  you  're 
going  to  convert  me,  it  may  take  some  time, 
you  know,  and  you  might  as  well  make  your 
self  comfortable.  As  for  me,  I  '11  take  the 
anxious  bench."  She  laughed  with  a  certain 
girlishness,  which  he  well  remembered,  and 
leaped  to  a  sitting  posture  on  the  table  with 
her  hands  on  her  knees,  swinging  her  smart 
shoes  backwards  and  forwards  below  it. 

Madison  looked  at  her  in  hopeless  silence, 
with  a  pale,  disturbed  face  and  shining  eyes. 

"  Or,  if  you  want  to  talk  as  we  used  to 
talk,  Mad,  when  we  sat  on  the  front  steps  at 
Angel's  and  pa  and  ma  went  inside  to  give 
us  a  show,  ye  can  hop  up  alongside  o'  me." 
She  made  a  feint  of  gathering  her  skirts  be 
side  her. 


THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S.        37 

"  Safie  !  "  broke  out  the  unfortunate  man, 
in  a  tone  that  seemed  to  increase  in  formal 
solemnity  with  his  manifest  agitation,  "  this 
is  impossible.  The  laws  of  God  that  have 
joined  you  and  this  man  "  — 

"  Oh,  it 's  the  prayer-meeting,  is  it? "  said 
Safie,  settling  her  skirts  again,  with  affected 
resignation.  "  Go  on." 

"  Listen,  Safie,"  said  Madison,  turning 
despairingly  towards  her.  "  Let  us  for  His 
sake,  let  us  for  the  sake  of  our  dear  blessed 
past,  talk  together  earnestly  and  prayerfully. 
Let  us  take  this  time  to  root  out  of  our 
feeble  hearts  all  yearnings  that  are  not 
prompted  by  Him  —  yearnings  that  your 
union  with  this  man  makes  impossible  and 
sinful.  Let  us  for  the  sake  of  the  past  take 
counsel  of  each  other,  even  as  brother  and 
sister." 

"  Sister  McGee !  "  she  interrupted  mock 
ingly.  "  It  was  n't  as  brother  and  sister  you 
made  love  to  me  at  Angel's." 

"  No !  I  loved  you  then,  and  would  have 
made  you  my  wife." 

"  And  you  don't  love  me  any  more,"  she 
said,  audaciously  darting  a  wicked  look  into 
his  eyes,  "  only  because  I  didn't  marry  you? 
And  you  think  that  Christian  ?  " 


38        THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S. 

"You  know  I  love  you  as  I  have  loved 
you  always,"  he  said  passionately. 

"  Hush !  "  she  said  mockingly ;  "  suppose 
he  should  hear  you." 

"  He  knows  it !  "  said  Madison  bitterly, 
"/told  him  all!" 

She  stared  at  him  fixedly. 

"  You  have  —  told  —  him  —  that  —  you 
still  love  me  ?  "  she  repeated  slowly. 

"  Yes,  or  I  would  n't  be  here  now.  It  was 
due  to  him  —  to  my  own  conscience." 

"  And  what  did  he  say  ?  " 

"He  insisted  upon  my  coming,  and,  as 
God  is  my  Judge  and  witness  —  he  seemed 
satisfied  and  content." 

She  drew  her  pretty  lips  together  with  a 
long  whistle,  and  then  leaped  from  the  table. 
Her  face  was  hard  and  her  eyes  were  bright 
as  she  went  to  the  window  and  looked  out. 
He  followed  her  timidly. 

"  Don't  touch  me,"  she  said,  sharply  strik 
ing  away  his  proffered  hand.  He  turned 
with  a  flushed  cheek  and  walked  slowly 
towards  the  door.  Her  laugh  stopped  him. 

"  Come !  I  reckon  that  squeezin'  hands 
ain't  no  part  of  your  contract  with  Sandy  ?  " 
she  said,  glancing  down  at  her  own.  "  Well, 
so  you  're  goin'  ?  " 


THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S.       39 

"I  only  wished  to  talk  seriously  and 
prayerfully  with  you  for  a  few  moments, 
Safie,  and  then —  to  see  you  no  more." 

"  And  how  would  that  suit  him,"  she  said 
dryly,  "  if  he  wants  your  company  here  ? 
Then,  just  because  you  can't  convert  me  and 
bring  me  to  your  ways  of  thinkin'  in  one 
visit,  I  suppose  you  think  it  is  Christian-like 
to  run  away  like  this  !  Or  do  you  suppose 
that,  if  you  turn  tail  now,  he  won't  believe 
that  your  Christian  strength  and  Christian 
resignation  is  all  humbug?  " 

Madison  dropped  into  the  chair,  put  his 
elbows  on  the  table,  and  buried  his  face  in 
his  hands.  She  came  a  little  nearer,  and 
laid  her  hand  lightly  on  his  arm.  He  made 
a  movement  as  if  to  take  it,  but  she  with 
drew  it  impatiently. 

"  Come,"  she  said  brusquely ;  "  now 
you  're  in  for  it  you  must  play  the  game  out. 
He  trusts  you ;  if  he  sees  you  can't  trust 
yourself,  he  '11  shoot  you  on  sight.  That 
don't  frighten  you  ?  Well,  perhaps  this  will 
then !  He  '11  say  your  religion  is  a  sham 
and  you  a  hypocrite  —  and  everybody  will 
believe  him.  How  do  you  like  that,  Brother 
Wayne  ?  How  will  that  help  the  Church  ? 
Come  I  You  're  a  pair  of  cranks  together ; 


40        THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S. 

but  he 's  got  the  whip-hand  of  you  this  time. 
All  you  can  do  is  to  keep  up  to  his  idea  of 
you.  Put  a  bold  face  on  it,  and  come  here 
as  often  as  you  can  —  the  of tener  the  bet 
ter  ;  the  sooner  you  '11  both  get  sick  of  each 
other  —  and  of  me.  That 's  what  you  're 
both  after,  ain't  it  ?  Well !  I  can  tell  you 
now,  you  needn't  either  of  you  be  the  least 
afraid  of  me." 

She  walked  away  to  the  window  again, 
not  angrily,  but  smoothing  down  the  folds 
of  her  bright  print  dress  as  if  she  were  wip 
ing  her  hands  of  her  husband  and  his  guest. 
Something  like  a  very  material  and  man-like 
sense  of  shame  struggled  up  through  his 
crust  of  religion.  He  stammered,  "You 
don't  understand  me,  Safie." 

"Then  talk  of  something  I  do  under 
stand,"  she  said  pertly.  "Tell  me  some 
news  of  Angel's.  Your  brother  was  over 
there  the  other  day.  He  made  himself  quite 
popular  with  the  young  ladies  —  so  I  hear 
from  Mrs.  Selvedge.  You  can  tell  me  as 
we  walk  along  the  bank  towards  Sandy's 
claim.  It 's  just  as  well  that  you  should 
move  on  now,  as  it 's  your  first  call,  and 
next  time  you  can  stop  longer."  She  went 
to  the  corner  of  the  room,  removed  her  smart 


THE   BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGELAS.        41 

slippers,  and  put  on  a  pair  of  walking-shoes, 
tying  them,  with  her  foot  on  a  chair,  in  a 
quiet  disregard  of  her  visitor's  presence  ; 
took  a  brown  holland  sunbonnet  from  the 
wall,  clapped  it  over  her  browner  hair  and 
hanging  braids,  and  tied  it  under  her  chin 
with  apparently  no  sense  of  coquetry  in  the 
act  —  becoming  though  it  was  —  and  with 
out  glancing  at  him.  Alas  for  Madison's 
ethics  !  The  torment  of  her  worldly  speech 
and  youthful  contempt  was  nothing  to  this 
tacit  ignoring  of  the  manhood  of  her  lover 
—  this  silent  acceptance  of  him  as  some 
thing  even  lower  than  her  husband.  He 
followed  her  with  a  burning  cheek  and  a 
curious  revolting  of  his  whole  nature  that  it 
is  to  be  feared  were  scarcely  Christian. 
The  willows  opened  to  let  them  pass  and 
closed  behind  them. 

An  hour  later  Mrs.  McGee  returned  to 
her  leafy  bower  alone.  She  took  off  her 
sunbonnet,  hung  it  on  its  nail  on  the  wall, 
shook  down  her  braids,  took  off  her  shoes, 
stained  with  the  mud  of  her  husband's  claim, 
and  put  on  her  slippers.  Then  she  ascended 
to  her  eyrie  in  the  little  gallery,  and  gazed 
smilingly  across  the  sunlit  Bar.  The  two 
gaunt  shadows  of  her  husband  and  lover, 


42        THE   BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S. 

linked  like  twins,  were  slowly  passing  along 
the  river  bank  on  their  way  to  the  eclipsing 
obscurity  of  the  cottonwoods.  Below  her  — 
almost  at  her  very  feet  — •  the  unconscious 
Arthur  Wayne  was  pushing  his  work  on  the 
river  bed,  far  out  to  the  promontory.  The 
sunlight  fell  upon  his  vivid  scarlet  shirt, 
his  bared  throat,  and  head  clustering  with 
perspiring  curls.  The  same  sunlight  fell 
upon  Mrs.  McGee's  brown  head  too,  and 
apparently  put  a  wicked  fancy  inside  it. 
She  ran  to  her  bedroom,  and  returned  with 
a  mirror  from  its  wall,  and,  after  some  trials 
in  getting  the  right  angle,  sent  a  searching 
reflection  upon  the  spot  where  Arthur  was 
at  work. 

For  an  instant  a  diamond  flash  played 
around  him.  Then  he  lifted  his  head  and 
turned  it  curiously  towards  the  crest  above 
him.  But  the  next  moment  he  clapped  his 
hands  over  his  dazzled  but  now  smiling  eyes, 
as  Mrs.  McGee,  secure  in  her  leafy  obscurity, 
fell  back  and  laughed  to  herself,  like  a  very 
schoolgirl. 

It  was  three  weeks  later,  and  Madison 
Wayne  was  again  sitting  alone  in  his  cabin. 
This  solitude  had  become  of  more  frequent 
occurrence  lately,  since  Arthur  had  revolted 


THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S.        43 

and  openly  absented  himself  from  his  reli 
gious  devotions  for  lighter  diversions  of  the 
Bar.  Keenly  as  Madison  felt  his  defection, 
he  was  too  much  preoccupied  with  other 
things  to  lay  much  stress  upon  it,  and  the 
sting  of  Arthur's  relapse  to  worldliness  and 
folly  lay  in  his  own  consciousness  that  it  was 
partly  his  fault.  He  could  not  chide  his 
brother  when  he  felt  that  his  own  heart  was 
absorbed  in  his  neighbor's  wife,  and  although 
he  had  rigidly  adhered  to  his  own  crude 
ideas  of  self-effacement  and  loyalty  to 
McGee,  he  had  been  again  and  again  a 
visitor  at  his  house.  It  was  true  that  Mrs. 
McGee  had  made  this  easier  by  tacitly  ac 
cepting  his  conditions  of  their  acquaintance 
ship,  by  seeming  more  natural,  by  exhibiting 
a  gayety,  and  at  times  even  a  certain  gentle 
ness  and  thoughtfulness  of  conduct  that 
delighted  her  husband  and  astonished  her 
lover.  Whether  this  wonderful  change  had 
really  been  effected  by  the  latter's  gloomy 
theology  and  still  more  hopeless  ethics,  he 
could  not  say.  She  certainly  showed  no 
disposition  to  imitate  their  formalities,  nor 
seemed  to  be  impressed  by  them  on  the  rare 
occasions  when  he  now  offered  them.  Yet 
she  appeared  to  link  the  two  men  together  — 


44        TEE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S. 

even  physically —  as  on  these  occasions  when, 
taking  an  arm  of  each,  she  walked  affection 
ately  between  them  along  the  river  bank 
promenade,  to  the  great  marveling  and  ad 
miration  of  the  Bar.  It  was  said,  however, 
that  Mr.  Jack  Hamlin,  a  gambler,  at  that 
moment  professionally  visiting  Wayne's  Bar, 
and  a  great  connoisseur  of  feminine  charms 
and  weaknesses,  had  glanced  at  them  under 
his  handsome  lashes,  and  asked  a  single 
question,  evidently  so  amusing  to  the  younger 
members  of  the  Bar  that  Madison  Wayne 
knit  his  brow  and  Arthur  Wayne  blushed. 
Mr.  Hamlin  took  no  heed  of  the  elder 
brother's  frown,  but  paid  some  slight  atten 
tion  to  the  color  of  the  younger  brother,  and 
even  more  to  a  slightly  coquettish  glance 
from  the  pretty  Mrs.  McGee.  Whether  or 
not  —  as  has  been  ingeniously  alleged  by 
some  moralists  —  the  light  and  trifling  of 
either  sex  are  prone  to  recognize  each  other 
by  some  mysterious  instinct,  is  not  a  neces 
sary  consideration  of  this  chronicle  ;  enough 
that  the  fact  is  recorded. 

And  yet  Madison  Wayne  should  have 
been  satisfied  with  his  work  !  His  sacrifice 
was  accepted ;  his  happy  issue  from  a  dan 
gerous  situation,  and  his  happy  triumph 


THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S        45 

over  a  more  dangerous  temptation,  was  com 
plete  and  perfect,  and  even  achieved  accord 
ing  to  his  own  gloomy  theories  of  redemp 
tion  and  regeneration.  Yet  he  was  not 
happy.  The  human  heart  is  at  times 
strangely  unappeasable.  And  as  he  sat  that 
evening  in  the  gathering  shadows,  the  Book 
which  should  have  yielded  him  balm  and 
comfort  lay  unopened  in  his  lap. 

A  step  upon  the  gravel  outside  had  be 
come  too  familiar  to  startle  him.  It  was 
Mr.  McGee  lounging  into  the  cabin  like  a 
gaunt  shadow.  It  must  be  admitted  that 
the  friendship  of  these  strangely  contrasted 
men,  however  sincere  and  sympathetic,  was 
not  cheerful.  A  belief  in  the  thorough 
wickedness  of  humanity,  kept  under  only 
through  fear  of  extreme  penalty  and  punish 
ment,  material  and  spiritual,  was  not  con 
ducive  to  light  and  amusing  conversation. 
Their  talk  was  mainly  a  gloomy  chronicle 
of  life  at  the  Bar,  which  was  in  itself  half 
an  indictment.  To-night,  Mr.  McGee  spoke 
of  the  advent  of  Mr.  Jack  Hamlin,  and  to 
gether  they  deplored  the  diversion  of  the 
hard-earned  gains  and  valuable  time  of  the 
Bar  through  the  efforts  of  that  ingenious 
gentleman.  "  Not,"  added  McGee  cau« 


46        THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S. 

tiously,  "  but  what  he  can  shoot  straight 
enough,  and  I've  heard  tell  that  he  don't 
lie.  That  mout  and  it  mout  n't  be  good  for 
your  brother  who  goes  around  with  him 
considerable,  there 's  different  ways  of  look- 
in'  at  that;  you  understand  what  I  mean? 
You  follow  me  ?  "  For  all  that,  the  con 
versation  seemed  to  languish  this  evening, 
partly  through  some  abstraction  on  the  part 
of  Wayne  and  partly  some  hesitation  in  Mc- 
Gee,  who  appeared  to  have  a  greater  fear 
than  usual  of  not  expressing  himself  plainly. 
It  was  quite  dark  in  the  cabin  when  at  last, 
detaching  himself  from  his  usual  lounging 
place,  the  door-post,  he  walked  to  the  win 
dow  and  leaned,  more  shadowy  than  ever, 
over  Wayne's  chair.  "I  want  to  tell  you 
suthin',"  he  said  slowly,  "  that  I  don't  want 
you  to  misunderstand  —  you  follow  me  ? 
and  that  ain't  no  ways  carpin'  or  criticism' 
nor  reflectin'  on  you  —  you  understand  what 
I  mean?  Ever  sens  you  and  me  had  that 
talk  here  about  you  and  Safie,  and  ever  sens 
I  got  the  hang  of  your  ways  and  your  style 
o'  thinkin',  I  've  been  as  sure  of  you  and 
her  as  If  I'd  been  myself  trottin'  round 
with  you  and  a  revolver.  And  I  'm  as  sure 
of  you  now  —  you  sabe  what  I  mean?  you 


THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S.        47 

understand  ?  You  've  done  me  and  her  a 
heap  o'  good ;  she  's  almost  another  woman 
sens  you  took  hold  of  her,  and  ef  you  ever 
want  me  to  stand  up  and  '  testify,'  as  you 
call  it,  in  church,  Sandy  McGee  is  ready. 
What  I  'm  tryin'  to  say  to  ye  is  this.  Tho' 
I  understand  you  and  your  work  and  your 
ways  —  there  's  other  folks  ez  mout  n't  — 
you  follow?  You  understand  what  I  mean  ? 
And  it 's  just  that  I  'm  coming  to.  Now 
las'  night,  when  you  and  Safie  was  mean- 
derin'  along  the  lower  path  by  the  water,  and 
I  kem  across  you  "  — 

"  But,"  interrupted  Madison  quickly, 
"  you  're  mistaken.  I  was  n't  "  — 

"  Hoi'  on,"  said  McGee,  quietly ;  "  I  know 
you  got  out  o'  the  way  without  you  seein' 
me  or  me  you,  because  you  didn't  know  it 
was  me,  don't  you  see  ?  don't  you  follow  ? 
and  that 's  just  it !  It  mout  have  bin  some 
one  from  the  Bar  as  seed  you  instead  o'  me. 
See  ?  That 's  why  you  lit  out  before  I 
could  recognize  you,  and  that's  why  poor 
Safie  was  so  mighty  flustered  at  first  and 
j  was  for  runnin'  away  until  she  kem  to  her 
self  agin.  When,  of  course,  she  laughed, 
and  agreed  you  must  have  mistook  me." 

"  But,"  gasped  Madison  quickly,  "  1 
was  n't  there  at  all  last  night" 


48        THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S. 

"What?" 

The  two  men  had  risen  simultaneously 
and  were  facing  each  other.  McGee,  with 
a  good-natured,  half-critical  expression,  laid 
his  hand  on  Wayne's  shoulder  and  slightly 
turned  him  towards  the  window,  that  he 
might  see  his  face.  It  seemed  to  him  white 
and  dazed. 

"  You  —  was  n't  —  there  —  last  night  ?  " 
he  repeated,  with  a  slow  tolerance. 

Scarcely  a  moment  elapsed,  but  the 
agony  of  an  hour  may  have  thrilled  through 
Wayne's  consciousness  before  he  spoke. 
Then  all  the  blood  of  his  body  rushed  to  his 
face  with  his  first  lie  as  he  stammered, 
"  No !  Yes !  Of  course.  I  have  made  a 
mistake  —  it  was  I." 

"I  see — you  thought  I  was  riled?  "  said 
McGee  quietly. 

"  No ;  I  was  thinking,  it  was  night  before 
last  I  Of  course  it  was  last  night.  I  must 
be  getting  silly."  He  essayed  a  laugh  —  rare 
at  any  time  with  him  —  and  so  forced  now 
that  it  affected  McGee  more  than  his  em- 
barrassment.  He  looked  at  Wayne  thought 
fully,  and  then  said  slowly :  "  I  reckon  1 
did  come  upon  you  a  little  too  sudden  last 
night,  but,  you  see,  I  was  thinkin'  of  suthin' 


THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S.       49 

else  and  disremembered  you  might  be  there. 
But  I  was  n't  mad  —  no !  no  !  and  I  only 
spoke  about  it  now  that  you  might  be  more 
keerf ul  before  folks.  You  follow  me  ?  You 
understand  what  I  mean  ?  " 

He  turned  and  walked  to  the  door,  when 
he  halted.  "You  follow  me,  don't  you? 
It  ain't  no  cussedness  o'  mine,  or  want  o* 
trustin',  don't  you  see?  Mebbe  I  ought- 
ened  have  spoken.  I  oughter  remembered 
that  times  this  sort  o'  thing  must  be  rather 
rough  on  you  and  her.  You  follow  me? 
You  understand  what  I  mean  ?  Good-night." 

He  walked  slowly  down  the  path  towards 
the  river.  Had  Madison  Wayne  been  watch 
ing  him,  he  would  have  noticed  that  his 
head  was  bent  and  his  step  less  free.  But 
Madison  Wayne  was  at  that  moment  sitting 
rigidly  in  his  chair,  nursing,  with  all  the 
gloomy  concentration  of  a  monastic  nature, 
a  single  terrible  suspicion. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HOWBEIT  the  sun  shone  cheerfully  over 
the  Bar  the  next  morning  and  the  next ;  the 
breath  of  life  and  activity  was  in  the  air ; 
the  settlement  never  had  been  more  prosper 
ous,  and  the  yield  from  the  opened  placers 
on  the  drained  river-bed  that  week  was  enor 
mous.  The  Brothers  Wayne  were  said  to 
be  "  rolling  in  gold."  It  was  thought  to  be 
consistent  with  Madison  Wayne's  nature 
that  there  was  no  trace  of  good  fortune 
in  his  face  or  manner  —  rather  that  he  had 
become  more  nervous,  restless,  and  gloomy. 
This  was  attributed  to  the  joylessness  of 
avarice  as  contrasted  with  the  spendthrift 
gayety  of  the  more  liberal  Arthur,  and  he 
was  feared  and  respected  as  a  miser.  His 
long,  solitary  walks  around  the  promontory, 
his  incessant  watchfulness,  his  reticence 
when  questioned,  were  all  recognized  as 
the  indications  of  a  man  whose  soul  was  ab 
sorbed  in  money-getting.  The  reverence 
they  failed  to  yield  to  his  religious  isolation 
they  were  willing  to  freely  accord  to  his 


THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S.       51 

financial  abstraction.  But  Mr.  McGee  was 
not  so  deceived.  Overtaking  him  one  day 
under  the  fringe  of  willows,  he  characteris 
tically  chided  him  with  absenting  himself 
from  Mrs.  McGee  and  her  house  since  their 
last  interview. 

"  I  reckon  you  did  not  harbor  malice  in 
your  Christianity,"  he  said ;  "  but  it  looks 
mighty  like  ez  if  ye  was  throwing  off  on 
Safie  and  me  on  account  of  what  I  said." 

In  vain  Madison  gloomily  and  almost 
sternly  protested. 

McGee  looked  him  all  over  with  his  clear 
measuring  eye,  and  for  some  minutes  was 
singularly  silent.  At  last  he  said  slowly: 
"  I  've  been  thinkin'  suthin'  o'  goin'  down 
to  'Frisco,  and  I  'd  be  a  heap  easier  in  my 
mind  ef  you  'd  promise  to  look  arter  Safie 
now  and  then." 

"You  surely  are  not  going  to  leave  her 
here  alone  ?  "  said  Wayne  roughly. 

"Why  not?" 

For  an  instant  Wayne  hesitated.  Then 
he  burst  out.  "  For  a  hundred  reasons  !  If 
she  ever  wanted  your  protection,  before, 
she  surely  does  now.  Do  you  suppose  the 
Bar  is  any  less  heathen  or  more  regenerated 
than  it  was  when  you  thought  it  necessary  to 


52        THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S, 

guard  her  with  your  revolver  ?  Man  !  It  is 
a  hundred  times  worse  than  then !  The  new 
claims  have  filled  it  with  spying  adventiirers 

—  with  wolves  like  Hamlin  and  his  friends 

—  idolaters  who  would  set  up  Baal  and  Ash- 
teroth  here  —  and  fill  your  tents  with  the 
curses  of  Sodom  !  " 

Perhaps  it  was  owing  to  the  Scriptural 
phrasing,  perhaps  it  was  from  some  unusual 
authority  of  the  man's  manner,  but  a  look  of 
approving  relief  and  admiration  came  into 
McGee's  clear  eyes. 

"  And  you  Ye  just  the  man  to  tackle  'em," 
he  said,  clapping  his  hand  on  Wayne's 
shoulder.  "  That 's  your  gait  —  keep  it  up ! 
But,"  he  added,  in  a  lower  voice,  "  me  and 
my  revolver  are  played  out."  There  was  a 
strangeness  in  the  tone  that  arrested  Wayne's 
attention.  "  Yes,"  continued  McGee,  strok 
ing  his  beard  slowly,  "  men  like  me  has  their 
day,  and  revolvers  has  theirs ;  the  world 
turns  round  and  the  Bar  fills  up,  and  this 
yer  river  changes  its  course  —  and  it 's  all  in 
the  day's  work.  You  understand  what  I 
mean  —  you  follow  me?  And  if  anything 
should  happen  to  me  —  not  that  it 's  like  to  ; 
but  it 's  in  the  way  o'  men  —  I  want  you  to 
look  arter  Safie.  It  ain't  every  woman  ez 


THE  BELL-RINGER    OF  ANGEL'S.       53 

has  two  men,  ez  like  and  unlike,  to  guard 
her.  You  follow  me  —  you  understand  what 
I  mean,  don't  you  ?  "  With  these  words  he 
parted  somewhat  abruptly  from  Wayne, 
turning  into  the  steep  path  to  the  promon 
tory  crest  and  leaving  his  companion  lost  in 
gloomy  abstraction.  The  next  day  Alexan 
der  McGee  had  departed  on  a  business  trip 
to  San  Francisco. 

In  his  present  frame  of  mind,  with  his 
new  responsibility  and  the  carrying  out  of  a 
plan  which  he  had  vaguely  conceived  might 
remove  the  terrible  idea  that  had  taken  pos 
session  of  him,  Madison  Wayne  was  even  re 
lieved  when  his  brother  also  announced  his 
intention  of  going  to  Angel's  for  a  few  days. 

For  since  his  memorable  interview  with 
McGee  he  had  been  convinced  that  Safie 
had  been  clandestinely  visited  by  some  cue. 
Whether  it  was  the  thoughtless  and  momen 
tary  indiscretion  of  a  willful  woman,  or  the 
sequel  to  some  deliberately  planned  intrigue, 
did  not  concern  him  so  much  as  the  falsity 
of  his  own  position,  and  the  conniving  lie  by 
which  he  had  saved  her  and  her  lover.  That 
at  this  crucial  moment  he  had  failed  to  "  tes 
tify  "  to  guilt  and  wickedness ;  that  he  firmly 
believed  —  such  is  the  inordinate  vanity  of 


54        THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S. 

the  religious  zealot — that  he  had  denied 
Him  in  his  effort  to  shield  her  ;  and  that  he 
had  broken  faith  with  the  husband  who  had 
entrusted  to  him  the  custody  of  his  wife's 
honor,  seemed  to  him  more  terrible  than  her 
faithlessness.  In  his  first  horror  he  had 
dreaded  to  see  her,  lest  her  very  confes 
sion —  he  knew  her  reckless  frankness 
towards  himself  —  should  reveal  to  him  the 
extent  of  his  complicity.  But  since  then, 
and  during  her  husband's  absence,  he  had 
convinced  himself  that  it  was  his  duty  to 
wrestle  and  strive  with  her  weak  spirit,  to 
implore  her  to  reveal  her  new  intrigue  to 
her  husband,  and  then  he  would  help  her 
to  sue  for  his  forgiveness.  It  was  a  part 
of  the  inconsistency  of  his  religious  convic 
tions  ;  in  his  human  passion  he  was  perfectly 
unselfish,  and  had  already  forgiven  her  the 
offense  against  himself.  He  would  see  her 
at  once ! 

But  it  happened  to  be  a  quiet,  intense 
night,  with  the  tremulous  opulence  of  a  full 
moon  that  threw  quivering  shafts  of  light 
like  summer  lightning  over  the  blue  river, 
and  laid  a  wonderful  carpet  of  intricate  lace 
along  the  path  that  wound  through  the  wil 
lows  to  the  crest.  There  was  the  dry,  stimu< 


THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S.        55 

lating  dust  and  spice  of  heated  pines  from 
below ;  the  languorous  odors  of  syringa ;  the 
faint,  feminine  smell  of  southernwood,  and 
the  infinite  mystery  of  silence.  This  silence 
was  at  times  softly  broken  with  the  tender 
inarticulate  whisper  of  falling  leaves,  broken 
sighs  from  the  tree-tops,  and  the  languid 
stretching  of  wakened  and  unclasping 
boughs.  Madison  Wayne  had  not,  alas! 
taken  into  account  this  subtle  conspiracy  of 
Night  and  Nature,  and  as  he  climbed  higher, 
his  steps  began  to  falter  with  new  and 
strange  sensations.  The  rigidity  of  purpose 
which  had  guided  the  hard  religious  con 
victions  that  always  sustained  him,  began  to 
relax.  A  tender  sympathy  stole  over  him ; 
a  loving  mercy  to  himself  as  well  as  others 
stole  into  his  heart.  He  thought  of  her  as 
she  had  nestled  at  his  side,  hand  in  hand, 
upon  the  moonlight  veranda  of  her  father's 
house,  before  his  hard  convictions  had  chilled 
and  affrighted  her.  He  thought  of  her  fresh 
simplicity,  and  what  had  seemed  to  him  her 
wonderful  girlish  beauty,  and  lo  !  in  a  quick 
turn  of  the  path  he  stood  breathless  and 
tremulous  before  the  house.  The  moon 
beams  lay  tenderly  upon  the  peaceful  eaves  ; 
the  long  blossoms  of  the  Madeira  vine 


56        THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S. 

seemed  sleeping  also.  The  pink  flush  of  the 
Cherokee  rose  in  the  unreal  light  had  be 
come  chastely  white. 

But  he  was  evidently  too  late  for  an  inter 
view.  The  windows  were  blank  in  the  white 
light ;  only  one  —  her  bedroom  —  showed  a 
light  behind  the  lowered  muslin  blind. 
Her  draped  shadow  once  or  twice  passed 
across  it.  He  was  turning  away  with  soft 
steps  and  even  bated  breath  when  suddenly 
he  stopped.  The  exaggerated  but  unmis 
takable  shadow  of  a  man  stood  beside  her 
on  the  blind. 

With  a  fierce  leap  as  of  a  maniac,  he  was 
at  the  door,  pounding,  rattling,  and  uttering 
hoarse  and  furious  outcries.  Even  through 
his  fury  he  heard  quickened  footsteps  —  her 
light,  reckless,  half-hysterical  laugh  —  a 
bound  upon  the  staircase  —  the  hurried  un 
bolting  and  opening  of  distant  doors,  as  the 
lighter  one  with  which  he  was  struggling  at 
last  yielded  to  his  blind  rage,  and  threw  him 
crashing  into  the  sitting-room.  The  back 
door  was  wide  open.  He  could  hear  the 
rustling  and  crackling  of  twigs  and  branches 
in  different  directions  down  the  hillside, 
where  the  fugitives  had  separated  as  they 
escaped.  And  yet  he  stood  there  for  an 


THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S.       57 

instant,  dazed  and  wondering,  "What 
next?" 

His  eyes  fell  upon  McGee's  rifle  standing 
upright  in  the  corner.  It  was  a  clean,  beau 
tiful,  precise  weapon,  even  to  the  unprofes 
sional  eye,  its  long,  laminated  hexagonal 
barrel  taking  a  tenderer  blue  in  the  moon 
light.  He  snatched  it  up.  It  was  capped 
and  loaded.  Without  a  pause  he  dashed 
down  the  hill. 

Only  one  thought  was  in  his  mind  now  — 
the  crudest,  simplest  duty.  He  was  there 
in  McGee's  place ;  he  should  do  what  Mc- 
Gee  would  do.  God  had  abandoned  him, 
but  McGee's  rifle  remained. 

In  a  few  minutes'  downward  plunging  he 
had  reached  the  river  bank.  The  tranquil 
silver  surface  quivered  and  glittered  before 
him.  He  saw  what  he  knew  he  would  see, 
the  black  target  of  a  man's  head  above  it, 
making  for  the  Bar.  He  took  deliberate 
aim  and  fired.  There  was  no  echo  to  that 
sharp  detonation ;  a  distant  dog  barked, 
there  was  a  slight  whisper  in  the  trees  be 
side  him,  that  was  all !  But  the  head  of  the 
man  was  no  longer  visible,  and  the  liquid 
silver  filmed  over  again,  without  a  speck  or 
stain. 


58        THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  AffGEL'8. 

He  shouldered  the  rifle,  and  with  the 
automatic  action  of  men  in  great  crises  re 
turned  slowly  and  deliberately  to  the  house 
and  carefully  replaced  the  rifle  in  its  old  po 
sition.  He  had  no  concern  for  the  miserable 
woman  who  had  fled ;  had  she  appeared  be 
fore  him  at  the  moment,  he  would  not  have 
noticed  her.  Yet  a  strange  instinct  —  it 
seemed  to  him  the  vaguest  curiosity  —  made 
him  ascend  the  stairs  and  enter  her  chamber. 
The  candle  was  still  burning  on  the  table 
with  that  awful  unconsciousness  and  simpli 
city  of  detail  which  makes  the  scene  of  real 
tragedy  so  terrible.  Beside  it  lay  a  belt  and 
leather  pouch.  Madison  Wayne  suddenly 
dashed  forward  and  seized  it,  with  a  wild,  in- 
ticulate  cry ;  staggered,  fell  over  the  chair, 
rose  to  his  feet,  blindly  groped  his  way  down 
the  staircase,  burst  into  the  road,  and,  hug 
ging  the  pouch  -to  his  bosom,  fled  like  a 
madman  down  the  hill. 

The  body  of  Arthur  Wayne  was  picked 
up  two  days  later  a  dozen  miles  down  the 
river.  Nothing  could  be  more  evident  and 
prosaic  than  the  manner  in  which  he  had 
met  his  fate.  His  body  was  only  partly 
clothed,  and  the  money  pouch  and  belt. 


THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S.       59 

which  had  been  securely  locked  next  his 
skin,  after  the  fashion  of  all  miners,  was 
gone.  He  was  known  to  have  left  the  Bar 
with  a  considerable  sum  of  money ;  he  was 
undoubtedly  dogged,  robbed,  and  murdered 
during  his  journey  on  the  river  bank  by  the 
desperadoes  who  were  beginning  to  infest 
the  vicinity.  The  grief  and  agony  of  his 
only  brother,  sole  survivor  of  that  fraternal 
and  religious  partnership  so  well  known  to 
the  camp,  although  shown  only  by  a  grim 
and  speechless  melancholy,  —  broken  by  un 
intelligible  outbursts  of  religious  raving,  — 
was  so  real,  that  it  affected  even  the  callous 
camp.  But  scarcely  had  it  regained  its 
feverish  distraction,  before  it  was  thrilled  by 
another  sensation.  Alexander  McGee  had 
fallen  from  the  deck  of  a  Sacramento  steam 
boat  in  the  Straits  of  Carquinez,  and  his 
body  had  been  swept  out  to  sea.  The  news 
had  apparently  been  first  to  reach  the  ears 
of  his  devoted  wife,  for  when  the  camp  —  at 
this  lapse  of  the  old  prohibition  —  climbed 
to  her  bower  with  their  rude  consolations, 
the  house  was  found  locked  and  deserted. 
The  fateful  influence  of  the  promontory  had 
again  prevailed,  the  grim  record  of  its  seclu 
sion  was  once  more  unbroken. 


60        THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S. 

For  with  it,  too,  drooped  and  faded  the 
fortunes  of  the  Bar.  Madison  Wayne  sold 
out  his  claim,  endowed  the  church  at  the 
Cross  Roads  with  the  proceeds,  and  the  pul 
pit  with  his  grim,  hopeless,  denunciatory 
presence.  The  first  rains  brought  a  freshet 
to  the  Bar.  The  river  leaped  the  light 
barriers  that  had  taken  the  place  of  Wayne's 
peaceful  engines,  and  regained  the  old 
channel.  The  curse  that  the  Eev.  Mad 
ison  Wayne  had  launched  on  this  river 
side  Sodom  seemed  to  have  been  fulfilled. 
But  even  this  brought  no  satisfaction  to  the 
gloomy  prophet,  for  it  was  presently  known 
that  he  had  abandoned  his  terror-stricken 
flock  to  take  the  circuit  as  revivalist 
preacher  and  camp-meeting  exhorter,  in  the 
rudest  and  most  lawless  of  gatherings.  Des 
perate  ruffians  writhed  at  his  feet  in  impo 
tent  terror  or  more  impotent  rage;  mur 
derers  and  thieves  listened  to  him  with 
blanched  faces  and  set  teeth,  restrained 
only  by  a  more  awful  fear.  Over  and 
over  again  he  took  his  life  with  his  Bible 
into  his  own  hands  when  he  rose  above 
the  excited  multitude ;  he  was  shot  at, 
he  was  rail-ridden,  he  was  deported,  but 
never  silenced.  And  so,  sweeping  over  the 


THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S.       61 

country,  carrying  fear  and  frenzy  with  him, 
scouting  life  and  mercy,  and  crushing  alike 
the  guilty  and  innocent,  he  came  one  Sab 
bath  to  a  rocky  crest  of  the  Sierras  —  the 
last  tattered  and  frayed  and  soiled  fringe  of 
civilization  on  the  opened  tract  of  a  great 
highway.  And  here  he  was  to  "  testify,"  as 
was  his  wont. 

But  not  as  he  expected.  For  as  he  stood 
up  on  a  boulder  above  the  thirty  or  forty  men 
sitting  or  lying  upon  other  rocks  and  boul 
ders  around  him,  on  the  craggy  mountain 
shelf  where  they  had  gathered,  a  man  also 
rose,  elbowed  past  them,  and  with  a  hur 
ried  impulse  tried  to  descend  the  declivity. 
But  a  cry  was  suddenly  heard  from  others, 
quick  and  clamoring,  which  tailed  the 
whole  assembly  to  its  feet,  and  it  was  seen 
that  the  fugitive  had  in  some  blundering 
way  fallen  from  the  precipice. 

He  was  brought  up  cruelly  maimed  and 
mangled,  his  ribs  crushed,  and  one  lung  { 
perforated,  but  still  breathing  and  conscious. 
He  had  asked  to  see  the  preacher.  Death 
impending,  and  even  then  struggling  with 
his  breath,  made  this  request  imperative. 
Madison  Wayne  stopped  the  service,  and 
stalked  grimly  and  inflexibly  to  where  the 
dying  man  lay.  But  there  he  started. 


62         THE   BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S. 

"  McGee !  "  he  said  breathlessly. 

"Send  these  men  away,"  said  McGee 
faintly.  "  I  Ve  got  suthin'  to  tell  you." 

The  men  drew  back  without  a  word. 
"You  thought  I  was  dead,"  said  McGee, 
with  eyes  still  undimmed  and  marvelously 
clear.  "I  orter  bin,  but  it  don't  need  no 
doctor  to  say  it  ain't  far  off  now.  I  left  the 
Bar  to  get  killed ;  I  tried  to  in  a  row,  but 
the  fellows  were  skeert  to  close  with  me, 
thinkin'  I  'd  shoot.  My  reputation  was 
agin  me,  there !  You  follow  me  ?  You  un 
derstand  what  I  mean  ?  " 

Kneeling  beside  him  now  and  grasping 
both  his  hands,  the  changed  and  horror- 
stricken  Wayne  gasped,  "  But  "  — 

"  Hold  on !  I  jumped  off  the  Sacramento 
boat — I  was  goin'  down  the  third  time — • 
they  thought  on  the  boat  I  was  gone  —  they 
think  so  now!  But  a  passin'  fisherman 
dived  for  me.  I  grappled  him  —  he  was 
clear  grit  and  would  have  gone  down  with 
me,  but  I  could  n't  let  him  die  too  —  havin' 
so  to  speak  no  cause.  You  follow  me  —  you 
understand  me  ?  I  let  him  save  me.  But 
it  was  all  the  same,  for  when  I  got  to  'Frisco 
I  read  as  how  I  was  drowned.  And  then  I 
reckoned  it  was  all  right,  and  I  wandered 


THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S.        63 

here,  where  I  was  n't  known  —  until  1  saw 
you." 

"  But  why  should  you  want  to  die  ?  "  said 
Wayne,  almost  fiercely.  "  What  right  have 
you  to  die  while  others  —  double-dyed  and 
blood-stained,  are  condemned  to  live,  'tes 
tify,'  and  suffer  ?  " 

The  dying  man  feebly  waved  a  depreca 
tion  with  his  maimed  hand,  and  even  >smiled 
faintly.  "  I  knew  you  'd  say  that.  I  knew 
what  you  'd  think  about  it,  but  it 's  all  the 
same  now.  I  did  it  for  you  and  Safie !  I 
knew  I  was  in  the  way ;  I  knew  you  was  the 
man  she  orter  had ;  I  knew  you  was  the 
man  who  had  dragged  her  outer  the  mire 
and  clay  where  I  was  leavin'  her,  as  you  did 
when  she  fell  in  the  water.  I  knew  that 
every  day  I  lived  I  was  makin'  you  suffer 
and  breakin'  her  heart  —  for  all  she  tried 
to  be  gentle  and  gay." 

"  Great  God  in  heaven !  Will  you  stop !  " 
said  Wayne,  springing  to  his  feet  in  agony. 
A  frightened  look  —  the  first  that  any  one 
had  ever  seen  in  the  clear  eyes  of  the  Bell- 
ringer  of  Angel's  —  passed  over  them,  and 
he  murmured  tremulously:  "All  right — • 
I  'm  stoppin' !  " 

So,  too,  was  his  heart,  for  the  wonderful 


64        THE  BELL-RINGER   OF  ANGEL'S. 

eyes  were  now  slowly  glazing.  Yet  he  rallied 
once  more  —  coming  up  again  the  third  time 
as  it  seemed  to  Wayne  —  and  his  lips  moved 
slowly.  The  preacher  threw  himself  des 
pairingly  on  the  ground  beside  him. 

"  Speak,  brother !  For  God's  sake, 
speak ! " 

It  was  his  last  whisper  —  so  faint  it  might 
have  been  the  first  of  his  freed  soul.  But 
he  only  said :  — 

"  You  're  —  f ollowin'  —  me  ?  You  —  un 
derstand  —  what  —  I  —  mean  ?  " 


JOHNNYBOY. 


THE  vast  dining-room  of  the  Crustacean 
Hotel  at  Greyport,  U.  S.,  was  empty  and 
desolate.  It  was  so  early  in  the  morning 
that  there  was  a  bedroom  deshabille  in  the 
tucked-up  skirts  and  bare  legs  of  the  little 
oval  breakfast-tables  as  they  had  just  been 
left  by  the  dusting  servants.  The  most  stir 
ring  of  travelers  was  yet  abed,  the  most  en 
terprising  of  first-train  catchers  had  not  yet 
come  down ;  there  was  a  breath  of  midsum 
mer  sleep  still  in  the  air  ;  through  the  half- 
opened  windows  that  seemed  to  be  yawning, 
the  pinkish  blue  Atlantic  beyond  heaved 
gently  and  slumberously,  and  drowsy  early 
bathers  crept  into  it  as  to  bed.  Yet  as  I 
entered  the  room  I  saw  that  one  of  the  little 
tables  in  the  corner  was  in  reality  occupied 
by  a  very  small  and  very  extraordinary 
child.  Seated  in  a  high  chair,  attended  by 
a  dreamily  abstracted  nurse  on  one  side,  an 
utterly  perfunctory  negro  waiter  on  the 
other,  and  an  incongruous  assortment  of  dis- 


66  JOIINNYBOY. 

regarded  viands  before  him,  he  was  taking 
• —  or,  rather,  declining  —  his  solitary  break 
fast.  He  appeared  to  be  a  pale,  frail,  but 
rather  pretty  boy,  with  a  singularly  pathetic 
combination  of  infant  delicacy  of  outline  and 
maturity  of  expression.  His  heavily  fringed 
eyes  expressed  an  already  weary  and  discon 
tented  intelligence,  and  his  willful,  resolute 
little  mouth  was,  I  fancied,  marked  with 
lines  of  pain  at  either  corner.  He  struck 
me  as  not  only  being  physically  dyspeptic, 
but  as  morally  loathing  his  attendants  and 
surroundings. 

My  entrance  did  not  disturb  the  waiter, 
with  whom  I  had  no  financial  relations ;  he 
simply  concealed  an  exaggerated  yawn  pro 
fessionally  behind  his  napkin  until  my  own 
servitor  should  appear.  The  nurse  slightly 
awoke  from  her  abstraction,  shoved  the  child 
mechanically,  —  as  if  starting  up  some 
clogged  machinery,  —  said,  "  Eat  your  break 
fast,  Johnnyboy,"  and  subsided  into  her 
dream.  I  think  the  child  had  at  first  some 
faint  hope  of  me,  and  when  my  waiter  ap 
peared  with  my  breakfast  he  betrayed  some 
interest  in  my  selection,  with  a  view  of  pos 
sible  later  appropriation,  but,  as  my  repast 
was  simple,  that  hope  died  out  of  his  infant 


JOHNNYBOY.  67 

mind.  Then  there  was  a  silence,  broken  at 
last  by  the  languid  voice  of  the  nurse :  — 

"  Try  some  milk  then  —  nice  milk." 

"  No  !  No  mik  !  Mik  makes  me  sick  — 
mik  does ! " 

In  spite  of  the  hurried  infantine  accent 
the  protest  was  so  emphatic,  and,  above  all, 
fraught  with  such  pent-up  reproach  and  dis 
gust,  that  I  turned  about  sympathetically. 
But  Johnnyboy  had  already  thrown  down 
his  spoon,  slipped  from  his  high  chair,  r,nd 
was  marching  out  of  the  room  as  fast  as  his 
little  sandals  would  carry  him,  with  indigna 
tion  bristling  in  every  line  of  the  crisp  bows 
of  his  sash. 

I,  however,  gathered  from  Mr.  Johnson, 
my  waiter,  that  the  unfortunate  child  owned 
a  fashionable  father  and  mother,  one  or  two 
blocks  of  houses  in  New  York,  and  a  villa  at 
Greyport,  which  he  consistently  and  intelli 
gently  despised.  That  he  had  imperiously 
brought  his  parents  here  on  account  of  his 
health,  and  had  demanded  that  he  should 
breakfast  alone  in  the  big  dining-room. 
That,  however,  he  was  not  happy.  "  Nuffin 
peahs  to  agree  wid  him,  Sah,  but  he  doan' 
cry,  and  he  speaks  his  mind,  Sah :  he  speaks 
his  mind." 


68  JOHNNYBOY. 

Unfortunately,  I  did  not  keep  Johnnyboy's 
secret,  but  related  the  scene  I  had  witnessed 
to  some  of  the  lighter-hearted  Crustaceans 
of  either  sex,  with  the  result  that  his  allit 
erative  protest  became  a  sort  of  catchword 
among  them,  and  that  for  the  next  few 
mornings  he  had  a  large  audience  of  early 
breakfasters,  who  fondly  hoped  for  a  repe 
tition  of  his  performance.  I  think  that 
Johnnyboy  for  the  time  enjoyed  this  com 
panionship,  yet  without  the  least  affectation 
or  self -consciousness  —  so  long  as  it  was  un 
obtrusive.  It  so  chanced,  however,  that  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Belcher,  a  gentleman  with  bovine 
lightness  of  touch,  and  a  singular  misunder 
standing  of  childhood,  chose  to  presume 
upon  his  paternal  functions.  Approaching 
the  high  chair  in  which  Johnnyboy  was 
dyspeptically  reflecting,  with  a  ponderous 
wink  at  the  other  guests,  and  a  fat  thumb 
and  forefinger  on  Johnnyboy's  table,  he 
leaned  over  him,  and  with  slow,  elephantine 
playfulness  said :  — 

"  And  so,  my  dear  young  friend,  I  under 
stand  that  '  mik  makes  you  sick  —  inik 
does.' " 

Anything  approaching  to  the  absolute  un- 
likeness  of  this  imitation  of  Johnnyboy's 


JOHNNYBOY.  69 

accents  it  is  impossible  to  conceive.  Possi 
bly  Johnnyboy  felt  it.  But  he  simply  lifted 
his  lovely  lashes,  and  said  with  great  dis 
tinctness  :  — 

"  Mik  don't  —  you  devil !  " 

After  this,  closely  as  it  had  knitted  us  to 
gether,  Johnnyboy's  morning  presence  was 
mysteriously  withdrawn.  It  was  later 
pointed  out  to  us  by  Mr.  Belcher,  upon  the 
veranda,  that,  although  Wealth  had  its  priv 
ileges,  it  was  held  in  trust  for  the  welfare  of 
Mankind,  and  that  the  children  of  the  Rich 
could  not  too  early  learn  the  advantages  of 
Self-restraint  and  the  vanity  of  a  mere  grati 
fication  of  the  Senses.  Early  and  frequent 
morning  ablutions,  brisk  morning  toweling, 
half  of  a  Graham  biscuit  in  a  teacup  of 
milk,  exercise  with  the  dumb-bells,  and  a 
little  rough-and-tumble  play  in  a  straw  hat, 
check  apron,  and  overalls  would  eventually 
improve  that  stamina  necessary  for  his  fu 
ture  Position,  and  repress  a  dangerous  cere 
bral  activity  and  tendency  to  give  way 
to  —  He  suddenly  stopped,  coughed,  and 
absolutely  looked  embarrassed.  Johnnyboy, 
a  moving  cloud  of  white  pique,  silk,  and 
embroidery,  had  just  turned  the  corner  of 
the  veranda.  He  did  not  speak,  but  as  he 


70  JOHNNYBOY, 

passed  raised  his  blue-veined  lids  to  the  ora 
tor.  The  look  of  ineffable  scorn  and  su 
periority  in  those  beautiful  eyes  surpassed 
anything  I  had  ever  seen.  At  the  next 
veranda  column  he  paused,  and,  with  his 
baby  thumbs  inserted  in  his  silk  sash,  again 
regarded  him  under  his  half-dropped  lashes 
as  if  he  were  some  curious  animal,  and  then 
passed  on.  But  Belcher  was  silenced  for 
the  second  time. 

I  think  I  have  said  enough  to  show  that 
Johnnyboy  was  hopelessly  worshiped  by  an 
impressible  and  illogical  sex.  I  say  hope 
lessly,  for  he  slipped  equally  from  the  proud 
est  silken  lap  and  the  humblest  one  of  calico, 
and  carried  his  eyelashes  and  small  aches 
elsewhere.  I  think  that  a  secret  fear  of  his 
alarming  frankness,  and  his  steady  rejection 
of  the  various  tempting  cates  they  offered 
him,  had  much  to  do  with  their  passion. 
"  It  won't  hurt  you,  dear,"  said  Miss  Circe, 
"  and  it 's  so  awfully  nice.  See  !  "  she  con 
tinued,  putting  one  of  the  delicacies  in  her 
own  pretty  mouth  with  every  assumption  of 
delight.  "  It 's  so  good  !  "  Johnnyboy 
rested  his  elbows  on  her  knees,  and  watched 
her  with  a  grieved  and  commiserating  supe 
riority.  "  Bimeby,  you  '11  have  pains  in 


JOHNNYS  OY.  71 

youse  tommick,  and  you  '11  be  tookt  to  bed," 
he  said  sadly,  "and  then  you'll — have  to 
dit  up  and  "  —  But  as  it  was  found  neces 
sary  here  to  repress  further  details,  he  es 
caped  other  temptation. 

Two  hours  later,  as  Miss  Circe  was  seated 
in  the  drawing-room  with  her  usual  circle  of 
enthusiastic  admirers  around  her,  Johnny- 
boy  —  who  was  issued  from  his  room  for  cir 
culation,  two  or  three  times  a  day,  as  a  gen 
teel  advertisement  of  his  parents  —  floated 
into  the  apartment  in  a  new  dress  and  a  seri 
ous  demeanor.  Sidling  up  to  Miss  Circe  he 
laid  a  phial — evidently  his  own  pet  medi 
cine  —  on  her  lap,  said, "  For  youse  tominik- 
ake  to-night,"  and  vanished.  Yet  I  have 
reason  to  believe  that  this  slight  evidence  of 
unusual  remembrance  on  Johnnyboy's  part 
more  than  compensated  for  its  publicity,  and 
for  a  few  days  Miss  Circe  was  quite  "set 
up  "  by  it. 

It  was  through  some  sympathy  of  this 
kind  that  I  first  gained  Johnnyboy's  goocj 
graces.  I  had  been  presented  with  a  small 
pocket  case  of  homoeopathic  medicines,  and 
one  day  on  the  beach  I  took  out  one  of  the 
tiny  phials  and,  dropping  two  or  three  of  the 
still  tinier  pellets  in  my  hand,  swallowed 


72  JOHNNYS  OY. 

them.  To  my  embarrassment,  a  small  hand 
presently  grasped  my  trouser-leg.  I  looked 
down ;  it  was  Johnnyboy,  in  a  new  and  rav 
ishing  smuggler  suit,  with  his  questioning 
eyes  fixed  on  mine. 

"Howjerdodat?" 

"Eh?" 

"  Wajer  do  dat  for  ?  " 

"  That  ?  —  Oh,  that 's  medicine.  I  've  got 
a  headache." 

He  searched  the  inmost  depths  of  my  soul 
with  his  wonderful  eyes.  Then,  after  a 
pause,  he  held  out  his  baby  palm. 

"  You  kin  give  Johnny  some." 

"  But  you  have  n't  got  headache  —  have 
you?" 

"  Me  alluz  has." 

" Not  always" 

He  nodded  his  head  rapidly.  Then  added 
slowly,  and  with  great  elaboration,  "Et 
mo'nins,  et  afternoons,  et  nights,  'nd  mo'nins 
adain.  'N  et  beeker  "  (i.  e.,  breakfast). 

There  was  no  doubt  it  was  the  truth. 
Those  eyes  did  not  seem  to  be  in  the  habit 
of  lying.  After  all,  the  medicine  could  not 
hurt  him.  His  nurse  was  at  a  little  distance 
gazing  absently  at  the  sea.  I  sat  down  on 
ft  bench,  and  dropped  a  few  of  the  pellets 


JOHNNY  EOT.  73 

into  his  palm.  He  ate  them  seriously,  and 
then  turned  around  and  backed  —  after  the 
well-known  appealing  fashion  of  childhood 
—  against  my  knees.  I  understood  the 
movement  —  although  it  was  unlike  my  idea 
of  Johnnyboy.  However,  I  raised  him  to 
my  lap  —  with  the  sensation  of  lifting  a 
dozen  lace-edged  handkerchiefs,  and  with 
very  little  more  effort  —  where  he  sat  si 
lently  for  a  moment,  with  his  sandals  crossed 
pensively  before  him. 

"  Would  n't  you  like  to  go  and  play  with 
those  children?"  I  asked,  pointing  to  a 
group  of  noisy  sand  levelers  not  far  away. 

"  No  1 "  After  a  pause,  "  You  would  n't 
neither." 

"Why?" 

"  Hediks." 

"  But,"  I  said,  "  perhaps  if  you  went 
and  played  with  them  and  ran  up  and 
down  as  they  do>  you  would  n't  have  head 
ache." 

Johnnyboy  did  not  answer  for  a  moment ; 
then  there  was  a  perceptible  gentle  move 
ment  of  his  small  frame.  I  confess  I  felt 
brutally  like  Belcher.  He  was  getting  down. 

Once  down  he  faced  me,  lifted  his  frank 
eyes,  said, "  Do  way  and  play  den,"  smoothed 


74  JOHNNYBOY. 

down  his  smuggler  frock,  and  rejoined  his 
nurse. 

But  although  Johnnyboy  afterwards  for 
gave  my  moral  defection,  he  did  not  seem  to 
have  forgotten  my  practical  medical  minis 
tration,  and  our  brief  interview  had  a  sur 
prising  result.  From  that  moment  he  con 
founded  his  parents  and  doctors  by  resolutely 
and  positively  refusing  to  take  any  more  of 
their  pills,  tonics,  or  drops.  Whether  from 
a  sense  of  loyalty  to  me,  or  whether  he  was 
not  yet  convinced  of  the  efficacy  of  homoe 
opathy,  he  did  not  suggest  a  substitute,  de 
clare  his  preferences,  or  even  give  his  rea 
sons,  but  firmly  and  peremptorily  declined 
his  present  treatment.  And,  to  everybody's 
astonishment,  he  did  not  seem  a  bit  the 
worse  for  it. 

Still  he  was  not  strong,  and  his  continual 
aversion  to  childish  sports  and  youthful  exer 
cise  provoked  the  easy  criticism  of  that  large 
part  of  humanity  who  are  ready  to  confound 
cause  and  effect,  and  such  brief  moments  as 
the  Sluysdaels  could  spare  him  from  their 
fashionable  duties  were  made  miserable  to 
them  by  gratuitous  suggestions  and  plans 
for  their  child's  improvement.  It  was  notice 
able,  however,  that  few  of  them  were  ever 


JOHNNYBOY.  75 

offered  to  Johnnyboy  personally.  He  had 
a  singularly  direct  way  of  dealing  with  them, 
and  a  precision  of  statement  that  was  embar 
rassing. 

One  afternoon,  Jack  Bracy  drove  up  to 
the  veranda  of  the  Crustacean  with  a  smart 
buggy  and  spirited  thoroughbred  for  Miss 
Circe's  especial  driving,  and  his  own  saddle- 
horse  on  which  he  was  to  accompany  hei 
Jack  had  dismounted,  a  groom  held  his  sad 
die-horse  until  the  young  lady  should  appear, 
and  he  himself  stood  at  the  head  of  the  thor 
oughbred.  As  Johnnyboy,  leaning  against 
the  railing,  was  regarding  the  turnout  with 
ill-concealed  disdain,  Jack,  in  the  pride  of 
his  triumph  over  his  rivals,  good-humoredly 
offered  to  put  him  in  the  buggy,  and  allow 
him  to  take  the  reins.  Johnnyboy  did  not 
reply. 

"  Come  along !  "  continued  Jack,  "  it  will 
do  you  a  heap  of  good !  It 's  better  than 
lazing  there  like  a  girl !  Rouse  up,  old 
man!" 

"  Me  don't  like  that  geegee,"  said  Johnny- 
boy  calmly.  "  He 's  a  silly  fool." 

"You're  afraid,"  said  Jack. 

Johnnyboy  lifted  his  proud  lashes,  and 
toddled  to  the  steps.  Jack  received  him 


T6  JOHNNYBOY. 

in  his  arms,  swung  him  into  the  seat,  and 
placed  the  slim  yellow  reins  in  his  baby 
hands. 

"  Now  you  feel  like  a  man,  and  not  like  a 
girl !  "  said  Jack.  "  Eh,  what  ?  Oh,  I  beg 
your  pardon." 

For  Miss  Circe  had  appeared  —  had  abso 
lutely  been  obliged  to  wait  a  whole  half 
minute  unobserved  —  and  now  stood  there 
a  dazzling  but  pouting  apparition.  In 
eagerly  turning  to  receive  her,  Jack's  foot 
slipped  on  the  step,  and  he  fell.  The  thor 
oughbred  started,  gave  a  sickening  plunge 
forward,  and  was  off !  But  so,  too,  was 
Jack,  the  next  moment,  on  his  own  horse, 
and  before  Miss  Circe's  screams  had  died 
away. 

For  two  blocks  on  Ocean  Avenue,  passers- 
by  that  afternoon  saw  a  strange  vision.  A 
galloping  horse  careering  before  a  light 
buggy,  in  which  a  small  child,  seated  up 
right,  was  grasping  the  tightened  reins. 
But  so  erect  and  composed  was  the  little 
face  and  figure  —  albeit  as  white  as  its  own 
frock  —  that  for  an  instant  they  did  not 
•  grasp  its  awful  significance.  Those  further 
along,  however,  read  the  whole  awful  story 
in  the  drawn  face  and  blazing  eyes  of  Jack 


JOHNNYBOY.  77 

Bracy  as  he,  at  last,  swung  into  the  Avenue. 
For  Jack  had  the  brains  as  well  as  the  nerve 
of  your  true  hero,  and,  knowing  the  danger 
ous  stimulus  of  a  stern  chase  to  a  frightened 
horse,  had  kept  a  side  road  until  it  branched 
into  the  Avenue.  So  furious  had  been  his 
pace,  and  so  correct  his  calculation,  that  he 
ranged  alongside  of  the  runaway  even  as  it 
passed,  grasped  the  reins,  and,  in  half  a 
block,  pulled  up  on  even  wheels. 

"I  never  saw  such  pluck  in  a  mite  like 
that,"  he  whispered  afterwards  to  his  anx 
ious  auditory.  "  He  never  dropped  those 

ribbons,  by  G ,  until  I  got  alongside, 

and  then  he  just  hopped  down  and  said,  as 
short  and  cool  as  you  please,  *  Dank  you ! '  n 

"Me  didn't,"  uttered  a  small  voice  re 
proachfully. 

"  Did  n't  you,  dear !  What  did  you  say 
then,  darling?"  exclaimed  a  sympathizing 
chorus. 

"  Me  said :  '  Damn  you ! '  Me  don't  like 
silly  fool  geegees.  Silly  fool  geegees  make 
me  sick  —  silly  fool  geegees  do !  " 

Nevertheless,  in  spite  of  this  incident,  the 
attempts  at  Johnnyboy's  physical  reforma 
tion  still  went  on.  More  than  that,  it  was 
argued  by  some  complacent  casuists  that 


78  JOHNNYBOY. 

the  pluck  displayed  by  the  child  was  the 
actual  result  of  this  somewhat  heroic  method 
of  taking  exercise,  and  not  an  inherent  man 
liness  distinct  from  his  physical  tastes.  So 
he  was  made  to  run  when  he  did  n't  want  to 
—  to  dance  when  he  frankly  loathed  his 
partners — to  play  at  games  that  he  de 
spised.  His  books  and  pictures  were  taken 
away ;  he  was  hurried  past  hoardings  and 
theatrical  posters  that  engaged  his  fancy; 
the  public  was  warned  against  telling  him 
fairy  tales,  except  those  constructed  on 
strictly  hygienic  principles.  His  fastidious 
cleanliness  was  rebuked,  and  his  best  frocks 
taken  away  —  albeit  at  a  terrible  sacrifice 
of  his  parents'  vanity  —  to  suit  the  theories 
of  his  critics.  How  long  this  might  have 
continued  is  not  known  —  for  the  theory 
and  practice  were  suddenly  arrested  by  an 
other  sensation. 

One  morning  a  children's  picnic  party 
was  given  on  a  rocky  point  only  accessible 
at  certain  states  of  the  tide,  whither  they 
were  taken  in  a  small  boat  under  the  charge 
of  a  few  hotel  servants,  and,  possibly  as 
part  of  his  heroic  treatment,  Johnnyboy, 
who  was  included  in  the  party,  was  not 
allowed  to  be  attended  by  his  regular  nurse. 


JOHNNYBOY.  79 

Whether  this  circumstance  added  to  his 
general  disgust  of  the  whole  affair,  and  his 
unwillingness  to  go,  I  cannot  say,  but  it  is 
to  be  regretted,  since  the  omission  deprived 
Johnnyboy  of  any  impartial  witness  to  what 
subsequently  occurred.  That  he  was  some 
what  roughly  handled  by  several  of  the 
larger  children  appeared  to  be  beyond 
doubt,  although  there  was  conflicting  evi 
dence  as  to  the  sequel.  Enough  that  at 
noon  screams  were  heard  in  the  direction  of 
certain  detached  rocks  on  the  point,  and  the 
whole  party  proceeding  thither  found  three 
of  the  larger  boys  on  the  rocks,  alone  and 
cut  off  by  the  tide,  having  been  left  there, 
as  they  alleged,  by  Johnnyboy,  who  had  run 
away  with  the  boat.  They  subsequently 
admitted  that  they  had  first  taken  the  boat 
and  brought  Johnnyboy  with  them,  "  just  to 
frighten  him,"  but  they  adhered  to  the  rest. 
And  certainly  Johnnyboy  and  the  boat  were 
nowhere  to  be  found.  The  shore  was  com 
municated  with,  the  alarm  was  given,  the 
telegraph,  up  and  down  the  coast,  trilled 
with  excitement,  other  boats  were  manned 
—  consternation  prevailed. 

But   that   afternoon   the  captain   of   the 
"Saucy   Jane,"    mackerel   fisher,  lying   off 


80  JOHNNYBOY. 

the  point,  perceived  a  derelict  "  Whitehall " 
boat  drifting  lazily  towards  the  Gulf  Stream. 
On  boarding  it  he  was  chagrined  to  find  the 
expected  flotsam  already  in  the  possession 
of  a  very  small  child,  who  received  him  with 
a  scornful  reticence  as  regarded  himself  and 
his  intentions,  and  some  objurgation  of  a 
person  or  persons  unknown.  It  was  John- 
nyboy.  But  whether  he  had  attempted  the 
destruction  of  the  three  other  boys  by  "  ma 
rooning  "  them  upon  the  rocks  —  as  their 
parents  firmly  believed  —  or  whether  he 
had  himself  withdrawn  from  their  company 
simply  because  he  did  not  like  them,  was 
never  known.  Any  further  attempt  to  im 
prove  his  education  by  the  roughing  gre 
garious  process  was,  however,  abandoned. 
The  very  critics  who  had  counseled  it  now 
clamored  for  restraint  and  perfect  isola 
tion.  It  was  ably  pointed  out  by  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Belcher  that  the  autocratic  habits  be 
gotten  by  wealth  and  pampering  should  be 
restricted,  and  all  intercourse  with  their 
possessor  promptly  withheld. 

But  the  season  presently  passed  with 
much  of  this  and  other  criticism,  and  the 
Sluysdaels  passed  too,  carrying  Johnnyboy 
and  his  small  aches  and  long  eyelashes  be- 


JOHNNYBOY.  81 

yond  these  Crustacean  voices,  where  it  was 
to  be  hoped  there  was  peace.  I  did  not 
hear  of  him  again  for  five  years,  and  then, 
oddly  enough,  from  the  lips  of  Mr.  Belcher 
on  the  deck  of  a  transatlantic  steamer,  as 
he  was  being  wafted  to  Europe  for  his  rec 
reation  by  the  prayers  and  purses  of  a 
grateful  and  enduring  flock.  "  Master  John 
Jacob  Astor  Sluysdael,"  said  Mr.  Belcher, 
speaking  slowly,  with  great  precision  of  re 
trospect,  "  was  taken  from  his  private  gov 
erness  —  I  may  say  by  my  advice  —  and 
sent  to  an  admirable  school  in  New  York, 
fashioned  upon  the  English  system  of  Eton 
and  Harrow,  and  conducted  by  English 
masters  from  Oxford  and  Cambridge.  Here 
—  I  may  also  say  at  my  suggestion  —  he 
was  subjected  to  the  wholesome  discipline 
equally  of  his  schoolmates  and  his  masters ; 
in  fact,  sir,  as  you  are  probably  aware,  the 
most  perfect  democracy  that  we  have  yet 
known,  in  which  the  mere  accidents  of 
wealth,  position,  luxury,  effeminacy,  physi 
cal  degeneration,  and  over-civilized  stimula 
tion,  are  not  recognized.  He  was  put  into 
compulsory  cricket,  football,  and  rounders. 
As  an  undersized  boy  he  was  subjected  to 
that  ingenious  preparation  for  future  mas- 


82  JOHNNYBOY. 

tership  by  the  pupillary  state  of  servitude 
known,  I  think,  as  '  fagging.'  His  physical 
inertia  was  stimulated  and  quickened,  and 
his  intellectual  precocity  repressed,  from 
time  to  time,  by  the  exuberant  playfulness 
of  his  fellow-students,  which  occasionally 
took  the  form  of  forced  ablutions  and  cor 
poral  discomfort,  and  was  called,  I  am  told, 
*  hazing.'  It  is  but  fair  to  state  that  our 
young  friend  had  some  singular  mental  en 
dowments,  which,  however,  were  promptly 
checked  to  repress  the  vanity  and  presump 
tion  that  would  follow."  The  Rev.  Mr. 
Belcher  paused,  closed  his  eyes  resignedly, 
and  added,  "  Of  course,  you  know  the  rest." 

"  Indeed,  I  do  not,"  I  said  anxiously. 

"  A  most  deplorable  affair  —  indeed,  a 
most  shocking  incident !  It  was  hushed  up, 
I  believe,  on  account  of  the  position  of  his 
parents."  He  glanced  furtively  around, 
and  in  a  lower  and  more  impressive  voice 
said,  "  I  am  not  myself  a  believer  in  hered 
ity,  and  I  am  not  personally  aware  that 
there  was  a  murderer  among  the  Sluysdael 
ancestry,  but  it  seems  that  this  monstrous 
child,  in  some  clandestine  way,  possessed 
himself  of  a  huge  bowie-knife,  sir,  and  on 
one  of  those  occasions  actually  rushed  furi- 


JOHNNYBOY.  83 

ously  at  the  larger  boys  —  his  innocent  play 
fellows  —  and  absolutely  forced  them  to  flee 
in  fear  of  their  lives.  More  than  that,  sir, 
a  loaded  revolver  was  found  in  his  desk,  and 
he  boldly  and  shamelessly  avowed  his  inten 
tion  to  eviscerate,  or  —  to  use  his  own  revolt 
ing  language  — '  to  cut  the  heart  out '  of 
the  first  one  who  again  'laid  a  finger  on 
him.' "  He  paused  again,  and,  joining  his 
two  hands  together  with  the  fingers  pointing 
to  the  deck,  breathed  hard  and  said,  "  His 
instantaneous  withdrawal  from  the  school 
was  a  matter  of  public  necessity.  He  was 
afterwards  taken,  in  the  charge  of  a  private 
tutor,  to  Europe,  where,  I  trust,  we  shall  not 
meet." 

I  could  not  resist  saying  cheerfully  that, 
at  least,  Johnny  boy  had  for  a  short  time 
made  it  lively  for  the  big  boys. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Belcher  rose  slowly,  but 
painfully,  said  with  a  deeply  grieved  expres 
sion,  "  I  don't  think  that  I  entirely  follow 
you,"  and  moved  gently  away. 

The  changes  of  youth  are  apt  to  be  more 
bewildering  than  those  of  age,  and  a  decade 
scarcely  perceptible  in  an  old  civilization 
often  means  utter  revolution  to  the  new.  It 
did  not  seem  strange  to  me,  therefore,  on 


84  JOHNNYBOY. 

meeting  Jack  Bracy  twelve  years  after,  to 
find  that  he  had  forgotten  Miss  Circe,  or 
that  she  had  married,  and  was  living  unhap 
pily  with  a  middle-aged  adventurer  by  the 
name  of  Jason,  who  was  reputed  to  have 
had  domestic  relations  elsewhere.  But  al 
though  subjugated  and  exorcised,  she  at 
least  was  reminiscent.  To  my  inquiries 
about  the  Sluysdaels,  she  answered  with  a 
slight  return  of  her  old  vivacity  :  — 

"  Ah,  yes,  dear  fellow,  he  was  one  of  my 
greatest  admirers." 

"  He  was  about  four  years  old  when  you 
knew  him,  was  n't  he  ? "  suggested  Jason 
meanly.  "Yes,  they  usually  were  young, 
but  so  kind  of  you  to  recollect  them.  Young 
Sluysdael,"  he  continued,  turning  to  me,  "is 
—  but  of  course  you  know  that  disgraceful 
story." 

I  felt  that  I  could  stand  this  no  longer. 
"Yes,"  I  said  indignantly,  "I  know  all 
about  the  school,  and  I  don't  call  his  conduct 
disgraceful  either." 

Jason  stared.  "  I  don't  know  what  you 
mean  about  the  school,"  he  returned.  "  I 
am  speaking  of  his  stepfather." 

"  His  stepfather  !  " 

"  Yes ;  his  father,  Van  Buren  Sluysdael, 


J01JNNYBOY.  85 

died,  you  know  —  a  year  after  they  left 
Greyport.  The  widow  was  left  all  the 
money  in  trust  for  Johnny,  except  about 
twenty-five  hundred  a  year  which  he  was  in 
receipt  of  as  a  separate  income,  even  as  a 
boy.  Well,  a  glib-tongued  parson,  a  fellow 
by  the  name  of  Belcher,  got  round  the  widow 
—  she  was  a  desperate  fool  —  and,  by  Jove  ! 
made  her  marry  him.  He  made  ducks  and 
drakes  of  not  only  her  money,  but  Johnny's 
too,  and  had  to  skip  to  Spain  to  avoid  the 
trustees.  And  Johnny  —  for  the  Sluysdaels 
are  all  fools  or  lunatics  —  made  over  his 
whole  separate  income  to  that  wretched, 
fashionable  fool  of  a  mother,  and  went  into 
a  stockbroker's  office  as  a  clerk." 

"  And  walks  to  business  before  eight 
every  morning,  and  they  say  even  takes 
down  the  shutters  and  sweeps  out,"  broke  in 
Circe  impulsively.  "  Works  like  a  slave 
all  day,  wears  out  his  old  clothes,  has  given 
up  his  clubs  and  amusements,  and  shuns 
society." 

"  But  how  about  his  health  ? "  I  asked. 
"  Is  he  better  and  stronger  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Circe,  "  but  he  looks 
as  beautiful  as  Endymion." 


86  JOHNNTBOT. 

At  his  bank,  in  Wall  Street,  Bracy  that 
afternoon  confirmed  all  that  Jason  had  told 
me  of  young  Sluysdael.  "But  his  tem 
per  ?  "  I  asked.  "  You  remember  his  tem 
per  —  surely." 

"  He  's  as  sweet  as  a  lamb,  never  quarrels, 
never  whines,  never  alludes  to  his  lost  for 
tune,  and  is  never  put  out.  For  a  youngster, 
he 's  the  most  popular  man  in  the  street. 
Shall  we  nip  round  and  see  him  ?  " 

"By  all  means." 

"  Come.     It  is  n't  far." 

A  few  steps  down  the  crowded  street  we 
dived  into  a  den  of  plate-glass  windows,  of 
scraps  of  paper,  of  rattling,  ticking  machines, 
more  voluble  and  excited  than  the  careworn, 
abstracted  men  who  leaned  over  them.  But 
"  Johnnyboy  "  —  I  started  at  the  familiar 
name  again — was  not  there.  He  was  at 
luncheon. 

"  Let  us  join  him,"  I  said,  as  we  gained 
the  street  again  and  turned  mechanically 
into  Delmonico's. 

"  Not  there,"  said  Bracy  with  a  laugh. 
"  You  forget !  That 's  not  Johnnyboy's 
gait  just  now.  Come  here."  He  was  de 
scending  a  few  steps  that  led  to  a  humble 
cake-shop.  As  we  entered  I  noticed  a  young 


JOHNNTBOT.  87 

fellow  standing  before  the  plain  wooden 
counter  with  a  cake  of  gingerbread  in  one 
hand  and  a  glass  of  milk  in  the  other.  His 
profile  was  before  me ;  I  at  once  recognized 
the  long  lashes.  But  the  happy,  boyish, 
careless  laugh  that  greeted  Bracy,  as  he  pre 
sented  me,  was  a  revelation. 

Yet  he  was  pleased  to  remember  me. 
And  then  —  it  may  have  been  embarrass 
ment  that  led  me  to  such  tactlessness,  but  as 
I  glanced  at  him  and  the  glass  of  milk  he 
was  holding,  I  could  not  help  reminding  him 
of  the  first  words  I  had  ever  heard  him 
utter. 

He  tossed  off  the  glass,  colored  slightly,  as 
I  thought,  and  said  with  a  light  laugh :  — 

"  I  suppose  I  have  changed  a  good  deal 
since  then,  sir." 

I  looked  at  his  demure  and  resolute 
mouth,  and  wondered  if  he  had. 


YOUNG   ROBIN   GRAY. 


THE  good  American  barque  Skyscraper 
was  swinging  at  her  moorings  in  the  Clyde, 
off  Bannock,  ready  for  sea.  But  that  good 
American  barque  —  although  owned  in  Bal 
timore  —  had  not  a  plank  of  American  tim 
ber  in  her  hulk,  nor  a  native  American  in 
her  crew,  and  even  her  nautical  "  goodness  " 
had  been  called  into  serious  question  by 
divers  of  that  crew  during  her  voyage,  and 
answered  more  or  less  inconclusively  with 
belay  ing-pins,  marlin-spikes,  and  ropes'  ends 
at  the  hands  of  an  Irish-American  captain 
and  a  Dutch  and  Danish  mate.  So  much  so, 
that  the  mysterious  powers  of  the  American 
consul  at  St.  Kentigern  had  been  evoked  to 
punish  mutiny  on  the  one  hand,  and  battery 
and  starvation  on  the  other ;  both  equally 
attested  by  manifestly  false  witness  and  sub 
ornation  on  each  side.  In  the  exercise 
of  his  functions  the  consul  had  opened  and 
shut  some  jail  doors,  and  otherwise  effected 
the  usual  sullen  and  deceitful  compromise, 


YOUNG   ROBIN   GRAY.  89 

and  his  flag  was  now  flying,  on  a  final  visit, 
from  the  stern  sheets  of  a  smart  boat  along 
side.  It  was  with  a  feeling  of  relief  at  the 
end  of  the  interview  that  he  at  last  lifted  his 
head  above  an  atmosphere  of  perjury  and 
bilge-water  and  came  on  deck.  The  sun  and 
wind  were  ruffling  and  glinting  on  the  broad 
ening  river  beyond  the  "  measured  mile  "  ; 
a  few  gulls  were  wavering  and  dipping  near 
the  lee  scuppers,  and  the  sound  of  Sabbath 
bells,  mellowed  by  a  distance  that  secured 
immunity  of  conscience,  came  peacefully  to 
his  ear. 

"  Now  that  job 's  over  ye  '11  be  takin'  a 
partin'  dhrink,"  suggested  the  captain. 

The  consul  thought  not.  Certain  incidents 
of  "  the  job  "  were  fresh  in  his  memory,  and 
he  proposed  to  limit  himself  to  his  strict 
duty. 

"  You  have  some  passengers,  I  see,"  he 
said,  pointing  to  a  group  of  two  men  and  a 
young  girl,  who  had  apparently  just  come 
aboard. 

"  Only  wan  ;  an  engineer  going  out  to  Rio. 
Them 's  just  his  friends  seein'  him  off,  I  'm 
thinking"  returned  the  captain,  surveying 
them  somewhat  contemptuously. 

The   consul  was  a  little  disturbed.     He 


90  YOUNG  ROBIN   GRAY. 

wondered  if  the  passenger  knew  anything  of 
the  quality  and  reputation  of  the  ship  to 
which  he  was  entrusting  his  fortunes.  But 
he  was  only  a  passenger,  and  the  consul's 
functions — like  those  of  the  aloft-sitting 
cherub  of  nautical  song  —  were  restricted 
exclusively  to  looking  after  "Poor  Jack." 
However,  he  asked  a  few  further  questions, 
eliciting  the  fact  that  the  stranger  had  al 
ready  visited  the  ship  with  letters  from  the 
eminently  respectable  consignees  at  St.  Ken- 
tigern,  and  contented  himself  with  lingering 
near  them.  The  young  girl  was  accompa 
nied  by  her  father,  a  respectably  rigid-look 
ing  middle-class  tradesman,  who,  however, 
seemed  to  be  more  interested  in  the  novelty 
of  his  surroundings  than  in  the  movements 
of  his  daughter  and  their  departing  friend. 
So  it  chanced  that  the  consul  reentered  the 
cabin  —  ostensibly  in  search  of  a  missing 
glove,  but  really  with  the  intention  of  seeing 
how  the  passenger  was  bestowed  —  just  be 
hind  them.  But  to  his  great  embarrassment 
he  at  once  perceived  that,  owing  to  the  ob 
scurity  of  the  apartment,  they  had  not  noticed 
him,  and  before  he  could  withdraw,  the 
man  had  passed  his  arm  around  the  young 
girl's  half  stiffened,  yet  half  yielding  figure. 


YOUNG  ROBIN  GRAY.  91 

"  Only  one,  Ailsa,"  he  pleaded  in  a  slow, 
serious  voice,  pathetic  from  the  very  absence 
of  any  youthful  passion  in  it;  "just  one 
now.  It  '11  be  gey  lang  before  we  meet 
again.  Ye  '11  not  refuse  me  now." 

The  young  girl's  lips  seemed  to  murmur 
some  protest  that,  however,  was  lost  in  the 
beginning  of  a  long  and  silent  kiss. 

The  consul  slipped  out  softly.  His  smile 
had  died  away.  That  unlooked-for  touch  of 
human  weakness  seemed  to  purify  the  stuffy 
and  evil-reeking  cabin,  and  the  recollection 
of  its  brutal  past  to  drop  with  a  deck-load 
of  iniquity  behind  him  to  the  bottom  of  the 
Clyde.  It  is  to  be  feared  that  in  his  unoffi 
cial  moments  he  was  inclined  to  be  sentimen 
tal,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  good  ship 
Skyscraper  henceforward  carried  an  inno 
cent  freight  not  mentioned  in  her  manifest, 
and  that  a  gentle,  ever-smiling  figure,  not 
entered  on  her  books,  had  invisibly  taken  a 
place  at  her  wheel. 

But  he  was  recalled  to  himself  by  a  slight 
altercation  on  deck.  The  young  girl  and 
the  passenger  had  just  returned  from  the 
cabin.  The  consul,  after  a  discreetly  careless 
pause,  had  lifted  his  eyes  to  the  young  girl's 
face,  and  saw  that  it  was  singularly  pretty 


92  YOUNG  ROBIN   GRAY. 

in  color  and  outline,  but  perfectly  self-corn- 
posed  and  serenely  unconscious.  And  he  was 
a  little  troubled  to  observe  that  the  pas 
senger  was  a  middle-aged  man,  whose  hard 
features  were  already  considerably  worn  with 
trial  and  experience. 

Both  he  and  the  girl  were  listening  with 
sympathizing  but  cautious  interest  to  her 
father's  contention  with  the  boatman  who 
had  brought  them  from  shore,  and  who  was 
now  inclined  to  demand  an  extra  fee  for  re 
turning  with  them.  The  boatman  alleged 
that  he  had  been  detained  beyond  "  kirk 
time,"  and  that  this  imperiling  of  his  sal 
vation  could  only  be  compensated  by  another 
shilling.  To  the  consul's  surprise,  this  ex 
traordinary  argument  was  recognized  by  the 
father,  who,  however,  contented  himself  by 
simply  contending  that  it  had  not  been  stipu 
lated  in  the  bargain.  The  issue  was,  there 
fore,  limited,  and  the  discussion  progressed 
slowly  and  deliberately,  with  a  certain  calm 
dignity  and  argumentative  satisfaction  on 
both  sides  that  exalted  the  subject,  though 
it  irritated  the  captain. 

"  If  ye  accept  the  premisses  that  I  've  just 
laid  down,  that  it 's  a  contract  "-—began  the 
boatman. 


YOUNG  ROBIN  GRAY.  93 

"  Dry  up  !  and  haul  off,"  said  the  captain. 

"One  moment,"  interposed  the  consul,  with 
a  rapid  glance  at  the  slight  trouble  in  the 
young  girl's  face.  Turning  to  the  father, 
he  went  on :  "  Will  you  allow  me  to  offer 
you  and  your  daughter  a  seat  in  my  boat  ?  " 

It  was  an  unlooked-for  and  tempting  pro 
posal.  The  boatman  was  lazily  lying  on  his 
oars,  secure  in  self-righteousness  and  the 
conscious  possession  of  the  only  available 
boat  to  shore  ;  on  the  other  hand,  the  smart 
gig  of  the  consul,  with  its  four  oars,  was 
not  only  a  providential  escape  from  a  diffi 
culty,  but  even  to  some  extent  a  quasi-official 
endorsement  of  his  contention.  Yet  he  hesi 
tated. 

"It'll  be  costin'  ye  no  more?"  he  said 
interrogatively,  glancing  at  the  consul's  boat 
crew,  "  or  ye  '11  be  askin'  me  a  fair  propor 
tion." 

"It  will  be  the  gentleman's  own  boat," 
said  the  girl,  with  a  certain  shy  assurance, 
"  and  he  '11  be  paying  his  boatmen  by  the 
day." 

The  consul  hastened  to  explain  that  their 
passage  would  involve  no  additional  expense 
to  anybody,  and  added,  tactfully,  that  he 
was  glad  to  enable  them  to  oppose  extortion. 


94  YOUNG  ROBIN  GRAY. 

"  Ay,  but  it 's  a  preencipel,"  said  the  fa* 
ther  proudly,  "  and  I  'm  pleased,  sir,  to  see 
ye  recognize  it." 

He  proceeded  to  help  his  daughter  into 
the  boat  without  any  further  leave-taking  of 
the  passenger,  to  the  consul's  great  surprise, 
and  with  only  a  parting  nod  from  the  young 
girl.  It  was  as  if  this  momentous  incident 
were  a  sufficient  reason  for  the  absence  of 
any  further  trivial  sentiment. 

Unfortunately  the  father  chose  to  add  an 
exordium  for  the  benefit  of  the  astonished 
boatsman  still  lying  on  his  oars. 

"Let  this  be  a  lesson  to  ye,  ma  frien', 
when  ye  're  ower  sure !  Ye  '11  ne'er  say  a 
herrin'  is  dry  until  it  be  reestit  an'  reekit." 

"Ay,"  said  the  boatman,  with  a  lazy, 
significant  glance  at  the  consul,  "  it  wull  be 
a  lesson  to  me  not  to  trust  to  a  lassie's 
gangivb  jo,  when  thair's  anither  yin  comin'." 

"  Give  way,"  said  the  consul  sharply. 

Yet  his  was  the  only  irritated  face  in  the 
boat  as  the  men  bent  over  their  oars.  The 
young  girl  and  her  father  looked  placidly  at 
the  receding  ship,  and  waved  their  hands  to 
the  grave,  resigned  face  over  the  taffrail. 
The  consul  examined  them  more  attentively. 
The  father's  face  showed  intelligence  and  s 


YOUNG  ROBIN  GRAY.  95 

certain  probity  in  its  otherwise  commonplace 
features.  The  young  girl  had  more  distinc 
tion,  with,  perhaps,  more  delicacy  of  outline 
than  of  texture.  Her  hair  was  dark,  with  a 
burnished  copper  tint  at  its  roots,  and  eyes 
that  had  the  same  burnished  metallic  lustre 
in  their  brown  pupils.  Both  sat  respectfully 
erect,  as  if  anxious  to  record  the  fact  that 
the  boat  was  not  their  own  to  take  their  ease 
in ;  and  both  were  silently  reserved,  answer 
ing  briefly  to  the  consul's  remarks  as  if  to 
indicate  the  formality  of  their  presence  there. 
But  a  distant  railway  whistle  startled  them 
into  emotion. 

"  We  've  lost  the  train,  father !  "  said  the 
young  girl. 

The  consul  followed  the  direction  of  her 
anxious  eyes  ;  the  train  was  just  quitting  the 
station  at  Bannock. 

"  If  ye  had  not  lingered  below  with  Jamie, 
we'd  have  been  away  in  time,  ay,  and  in 
our  own  boat,"  said  the  father,  with  marked 
severity. 

The  consul  glanced  quickly  at  the  girl. 
But  her  face  betrayed  no  consciousness,  ex 
cept  of  their  present  disappointment. 

"  There 's  an  excursion  boat  coming  round 
the  Point,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  black 


96  YOUNG  ROBIN  GRAY. 

smoke  trail  of  a  steamer  at  the  entrance  of 
a  loch,  "  and  it  will  be  returning  to  St.  Ken- 
tigern  shortly.  If  you  like,  we  '11  pull  over 
and  put  you  aboard." 

"Eh!  but  it's  the  Sabbath-breaker!" 
said  the  old  man  harshly. 

The  consul  suddenly  remembered  that 
that  was  the  name  which  the  righteous  St. 
Kentigerners  had  given  to  the  solitary  bold, 
bad  pleasure-boat  that  defied  their  Sabbati 
cal  observances. 

"  Perhaps  you  won't  find  very  pleasant 
company  on  board,"  said  the  consul  smiling ; 
"  but,  then,  you  're  not  seeking  that.  And 
as  you  would  be  only  using  the  boat  to  get 
back  to  your  home,  and  not  for  Sunday  rec 
reation,  I  don't  think  your  conscience 
should  trouble  you." 

"  Ay,  that 's  a  fine  argument,  Mr.  Consul, 
but  I  'm  thinkin'  it 's  none  the  less  sopheestry 
for  a'  that,"  said  the  father  grimly.  "  No ; 
if  ye  '11  just  land  us  yonder  at  Bannock  pier, 
we  '11  be  ay  thankin'  ye  the  same." 

"  But  what  will  you  do  there  ?  There  's 
no  other  train  to-day." 

"  Ay,  we  '11  walk  on  a  bit." 

The  consul  was  silent.  After  a  pause  the 
young  girl  lifted  her  clear  eyes,  and  with  a 


YOUNG  ROBIN   GRAY.  97 

half  pathetic,  half  childish  politeness,  said: 
"  We  '11  be  doing  very  well  —  my  father  and 
me.  You  're  far  too  kind." 

Nothing  further  was  said  as  they  began 
to  thread  their  way  between  a  few  large 
ships  and  an  ocean  steamer  at  anchor,  from 
whose  decks  a  few  Sunday-clothed  mariners 
gazed  down  admiringly  on  the  smart  gig 
and  the  pretty  girl  in  a  Tarn  o'  Shanter  in 
its  stern  sheets.  But  here  a  new  idea  struck 
the  consul.  A  cable's  length  ahead  lay  a 
yacht,  owned  by  an  American  friend,  and 
at  her  stern  a  steam  launch  swung  to  its 
painter.  Without  intimating  his  intention 
to  his  passengers  he  steered  for  it.  "  Bow ! 
—  way  enough,"  he  called  out  as  the  boat 
glided  under  the  yacht's  counter,  and,  grasp 
ing  the  companion-ladder  ropes,  he  leaped 
aboard.  In  a  few  hurried  words  he  explained 
the  situation  to  Mr.  Robert  Gray,  her  owner, 
and  suggested  that  he  should  send  the  be 
lated  passengers  to  St.  Kentigern  by  the 
launch.  Gray  assented  with  the  easy  good 
nature  of  youth,  wealth,  and  indolence,  and 
lounged  from  his  cabin  to  the  side.  The 
consul  followed.  Looking  down  upon  the 
boat  he  could  not  help  observing  that  his 
fair  young  passenger,  sitting  in  her  demure 


98  YOUNG  ROBIN   GRAY. 

stillness  at  her  father's  side,  made  a  very 
pretty  picture.  It  was  possible  that  "  Bob 
Gray  "  had  made  the  same  observation,  for 
he  presently  swung  himself  over  the  gang 
way  into  the  gig,  hat  in  hand.  The  launch 
could  easily  take  them ;  in  fact,  he  added 
unblushingly,  it  was  even  then  getting  up 
steam  to  go  to  St.  Kentigern.  Would  they 
kindly  come  on  board  until  it  was  ready? 
At  an  added  word  or  two  of  explanation 
from  the  consul,  the  father  accepted,  pre 
serving  the  same  formal  pride  and  stiffness, 
and  the  transfer  was  made.  The  consul, 
looking  back  as  his  gig  swept  round  again 
towards  Bannock  pier,  received  their  parting 
salutations,  and  the  first  smile  he  had  seen 
on  the  face  of  his  grave  little  passenger. 
He  thought  it  very  sweet  and  sad. 

He  did  not  return  to  the  Consulate  at  St. 
Kentigern  until  the  next  day.  But  he  was 
somewhat  surprised  to  find  Mr.  Robert  Gray 
awaiting  him,  and  upon  some  business  which 
the  young  millionaire  could  have  easily  de 
puted  to  his  captain  or  steward.  As  he  still 
lingered,  the  consul  pleasantly  referred  to 
his  generosity  on  the  previous  day,  and 
hoped  the  passengers  had  given  him  no 
trouble. 


YOUNG  ROBIN  GRAY.  99 

"  No,"  said  Gray  with  a  slight  simulation 
of  carelessness.  "  In  fact  I  came  up  with 
them  myself.  I  had  nothing  to  do ;  it  was 
Sunday,  you  know." 

The  consul  lifted  his  eyebrows  slightly. 

"  Yes,  I  saw  them  home,"  continued  Gray 
lightly.  "  In  one  of  those  by-streets  not  far 
from  here ;  neat-looking  house  outside ;  in 
side,  corkscrew  stone  staircase  like  a  light 
house  ;  fourth  floor,  no  lift,  but  she  circled 
up  like  a  swallow !  Flat  —  sitting-room,  two 
bedrooms,  and  a  kitchen  —  mighty  snug  and 
shipshape  and  pretty  as  a  pink.  They  own 
it  too  —  fancy  owning  part  of  a  house ! 
Seems  to  be  a  way  they  have  here  in  St. 
Kentigern."  He  paused  and  then  added: 
"  Stayed  there  to  a  kind  of  high  tea !  " 

"  Indeed,"  said  the  consul. 

"  Why  not  ?  The  old  man  wanted  to  re 
turn  my  'hospitality'  and  square  the  ac 
count  !  He  was  n't  going  to  lie  under  any 
obligation  to  a  stranger,  and,  by  Jove !  he 
made  it  a  special  point  of  honor  !  A  Span 
ish  grandee  could  n't  have  been  more  punc 
tilious.  And  with  an  accent,  Jerusalem! 
like  a  northeaster  off  the  Banks !  But  the 
feed  was  in  good  taste,  and  he  only  a  mathe 
matical  instrument  maker,  on  about  twelve 
hundred  dollars  a  year!  " 


100  YOUNG  ROBIN   GRAY. 

"  You  seem  to  know  all  about  him,"  said 
the  consul  smilingly. 

"  Not  so  much  as  he  does  about  me,"  re 
turned  Gray,  with  a  half  perplexed  face ; 
"  for  he  saw  enough  to  admonish  me  about 
my  extravagance,  and  even  to  intimate  that 
that  rascal  Saunderson,  my  steward,  was  im 
posing  on  me.  She  took  me  to  task,  too,  for 
not  laying  the  yacht  up  on  Sunday  that  the 
men  could  go  '  to  kirk,'  and  for  swearing  at 
a  bargeman  who  ran  across  our  bows.  It 's 
their  perfect  simplicity  and  sincerity  in  all 
this  that  gets  me !  You  'd  have  thought 
that  the  old  man  was  my  guardian,  and  the 
daughter  my  aunt."  After  a  pause  he  uttered 
a  reminiscent  laugh.  "  She  thought  we  ate 
and  drank  too  much  on  the  yacht,  and  won 
dered  what  we  could  find  to  do  all  day.  All 
this,  you  know,  in  the  gentlest,  caressing 
sort  of  voice,  as  if  she  was  really  concerned, 
like  one's  own  sister.  Well,  not  exactly  like 
mine  "  —  he  interrupted  himself  grimly  — 
"  but,  hang  it  all,  you  know  what  I  mean. 
You  know  that  our  girls  over  there  haven't 
got  that  trick  of  voice.  Too  much  self- 
assertion,  I  reckon  ;  things  made  too  easy 
for  them  by  us  men.  Habit  of  race,  I  dare 
say."  He  laughed  a  little.  "  Why,  I  mis- 


YOUNG  ROBIN  GRAY.  101 

laid  ray  glove  when  I  was  coming  away,  and 
it  was  as  good  as  a  play  to  hear  her  commis 
erating  and  sympathizing,  and  hunting  for 
it  as  if  it  were  a  lost  baby." 

"But  you've  seen  Scotch  girls  before 
this,"  said  the  consul.  "  There  were  Lady 
Glairn's  daughters,  whom  you  took  on  a 
cruise." 

"  Yes,  but  the  swell  Scotch  all  imitate  the 
English,  as  everybody  else  does,  for  the 
matter  of  that,  our  girls  included ;  and 
they  're  all  alike.  Society  makes  'em  fit  in 
together  like  tongued  and  grooved  planks 
that  will  take  any  amount  of  holy-stoning 
and  polish.  It 's  like  dropping  into  a  dead 
calm,  with  every  rope  and  spar  that  you 
know  already  reflected  back  from  the 
smooth  water  upon  you.  It 's  mighty  pretty, 
but  it  isn't  getting  on,  you  know."  After  a 
pause  he  added :  "  I  asked  them  to  take  a 
little  holiday  cruise  with  me." 

"And  they  declined,"  interrupted  the 
consul. 

Gray  glanced  at  him  quickly. 

"Well,  yes;  that's  all  right  enough. 
They  don't  know  me,  you  see,  but  they  do 
know  you ;  and  the  fact  is.  I  was  thinking 
that  as  you're  our  consul  here,  don't  you 


102  YOUNG   ROBIN   GRAY. 

see,  and  sort  of  responsible  for  me,  you 
might  say  that  it  was  all  right,  you  know. 
Quite  the  customary  thing  with  us  over 
there.  And  you  might  say,  generally,  who 
I  am." 

"  I  see,"  said  the  consul  deliberately. 
"Tell  them  you're  Bob  Gray,  with  more 
money  and  time  than  you  know  what  to  do 
with ;  that  you  have  a  fine  taste  for  yachting 
and  shooting  and  racing,  and  amusing  your 
self  generally ;  that  you  find  that  they  amuse 
you,  and  you  would  like  your  luxury  and 
your  dollars  to  stand  as  an  equivalent  to 
their  independence  and  originality;  that, 
being  a  good  republican  yourself,  and  rec 
ognizing  no  distinction  of  class,  you  don't 
care  what  this  may  mean  to  them,  who  are 
brought  up  differently;  that  after  their 
cruise  with  you  you  don't  care  what  life, 
what  friends,  or  what  jealousies  they  return 
to;  that  you  know  no  ties,  no  responsibili 
ties  beyond  the  present,  and  that  you  are 
not  a  marrying  man."  , 

"  Look  here,  I  say,  are  n't  you  making  a 
little  too  much  of  this  ?  "  said  Gray  stiffly. 

The  consul  laughed.  "  I  should  be  glad 
to  know  that  I  am." 

Gray  rose.     "We'll   be  dropping  down 


YOUNG  ROBIN  GRAY.       103 

the  river  to-morrow,"  he  said,  with  a  return 
of  his  usual  lightness,  "  and  I  reckon  I  '11  be 
toddling  down  to  the  wharf.  Good-bye,  if  I 
don't  see  you  again." 

He  passed  out.  As  the  consul  glanced 
from  the  window  he  observed,  however,  that 
Mr.  Gray  was  "  toddling  "  in  quite  another 
direction  than  the  wharf.  For  an  instant  he 
half  regretted  that  he  had  not  suggested,  in 
some  discreet  way,  the  conclusion  he  had 
arrived  at  after  witnessing  the  girl's  parting 
with  the  middle-aged  passenger  the  day  be 
fore.  But  he  reflected  that  this  was  some 
thing  he  had  only  accidentally  overseen,  and 
was  the  girl's  own  secret. 


n. 

WHEN  the  summer  had  so  waxed  in  its 
fullness  that  the  smoke  of  factory  chimneys 
drifted  high,  permitting  glimpses  of  fairly 
blue  sky ;  when  the  grass  in  St.  Kentigern's 
proudest  park  took  on  a  less  sober  green  in 
the  comfortable  sun,  and  even  in  the  thick 
est  shade  there  was  no  chilliness,  the  good 
St.  Kentigerners  recognized  that  the  season 
had  arrived  to  go  "down  the  river,"  and 
that  it  was  time  for  them  to  betake  them 
selves,  with  rugs,  mackintoshes,  and  umbrel 
las,  to  the  breezy  lochs  and  misty  hillsides 
for  which  the  neighborhood  of  St.  Ken- 
tigern  is  justly  famous.  So  when  it  came  to 
pass  that  the  blinds  were  down  in  the  high 
est  places,  and  the  most  exclusive  pavements 
of  St.  Kentigern  were  echoless  and  desolate, 
the  consul  heroically  tore  himself  from  the 
weak  delight  of  basking  in  the  sunshine,  and 
followed  the  others. 

He  soon  found  himself  settled  at  the  fur 
thest  end  of  a  long  narrow  loch,  made  longer 
and  narrower  by  the  steep  hillside  of  rock 


TOUNG  ROBIN   GRAY.  105 

and  heather  which  flanked  its  chilly  surface 
on  either  side,  and  whose  inequalities  were 
lost  in  the  firs  and  larches  that  filled  ravine 
and  chasm.  The  fragrant  road  which  ran 
sinuously  through  their  shadowy  depths  was 
invisible  from  the  loch ;  no  protuberance 
broke  the  seemingly  sheer  declivity ;  the 
even  sky-line  was  indented  in  two  places  — 
one  where  it  was  cracked  into  a  fanciful 
resemblance  to  a  human  profile,  the  other 
where  it  was  curved  like  a  bowl.  Need  it 
be  said  that  one  was  distinctly  recognized  as 
the  silhouette  of  a  prehistoric  giant,  and 
that  the  other  was  his  drinking-cup  ;  need 
it  be  added  that  neither  lent  the  slightest 
human  suggestion  to  the  solitude  ?  A  toy- 
like  pier  extending  into  the  loch,  midway 
from  the  barren  shore,  only  heightened  the 
desolation.  And  when  the  little  steamboat 
that  occasionally  entered  the  loch  took  away 
a  solitary  passenger  from  the  pier-head,  the 
simplest  parting  was  invested  with  a  dreary 
loneliness  that  might  have  brought  tears  to 
the  most  hardened  eye. 

Still,  when  the  shadow  of  either  hillside 
was  not  reaching  across  the  loch,  the  meri 
dian  sun,  chancing  upon  this  coy  mirror, 
made  the  most  of  it.  Then  it  was  that,  seen 


106  YOUNG  ROBIN  GRAY. 

from  above,  it  flashed  like  a  falchion  lying 
between  the  hills ;  then  its  reflected  glory, 
striking  up,  transfigured  the  two  acclivities, 
tipped  the  cold  heather  with  fire,  gladdened 
the  funereal  pines,  and  warmed  the  ascetic 
rocks.  And  it  was  in  one  of  those  rare, 
passionate  intervals  that  the  consul,  riding 
along  the  wooded  track  and  turning  his  eyes 
from  their  splendors,  came  upon  a  little 
house. 

It  had  once  been  a  sturdy  cottage,  with  a 
grim  endurance  and  inflexibility  which  even 
some  later  and  lighter  additions  had  soft 
ened  rather  than  changed.  On  either  side 
of  the  door,  against  the  bleak  whitewashed 
wall,  two  tall  fuchsias  relieved  the  rigid 
blankness  with  a  show  of  color.  The  win 
dows  were  prettily  draped  with  curtains 
caught  up  with  gay  ribbons.  In  a  stony 
pound-like  enclosure  there  was  some  attempt 
at  floral  cultivation,  but  all  quite  recent. 
So,  too,  were  a  wicker  garden  seat,  a  bright 
Japanese  umbrella,  and  a  tropical  ham 
mock  suspended  between  two  arctic-looking 
bushes,  which  the  rude  and  rigid  forefathers 
of  the  hamlet  would  have  probably  resented. 

He  had  just  passed  the  house  when  a 
charming  figure  slipped  across  the  road  be- 


YOUNG  ROBIN  GRAY.  107 

fore  him.  To  his  surprise  it  was  the  young 
girl  he  had  met  a  few  months  before  on  the 
Skyscraper.  But  the  Tarn  o'  Shanter  was 
replaced  by  a  little  straw  hat;  and  a  light 
dress,  summery  in  color  and  texture,  but 
more  in  keeping  with  her  rustic  surround 
ings,  seemed  as  grateful  and  rare  as  the 
sunshine.  Without  knowing  why,  he  had 
an  impression  that  it  was  of  her  own  mak 
ing  —  a  gentle  plagiarism  of  the  style  of  her 
more  fortunate  sisters,  but  with  a  demure 
restraint  all  her  own.  As  she  recognized 
him  a  faint  color  came  to  her  cheek,  partly 
from  surprise,  partly  from  some  association. 
To  his  delighted  greeting  she  responded  by 
informing  him  that  her  father  had  taken  the 
cottage  he  had  just  passed,  where  they  were 
spending  a  three  weeks'  vacation  from  his 
business.  It  was  not  so  far  from  St.  Kenti- 
gern  but  that  he  could  run  up  for  a  day  to 
look  after  the  shop.  Did  the  consul  not 
think  it  was  wise  ? 

Quite  ready  to  assent  to  any  sagacity  in 
those  clear  brown  eyes,  the  consul  thought 
it  was.  But  was  it  not,  like  wisdom,  some 
times  lonely  ? 

Ah  !  no.  There  was  the  loch  and  the  hills 
and  the  heather ;  there  were  her  flowers ; 


108  YOUNG  ROBIN  GRAY. 

did  he  not  think  they  were  growing  well? 
and  at  the  head  of  the  loch  there  was  the  old 
tomb  of  the  MeHulishes,  and  some  of  the 
coffins  were  still  to  be  seen. 

Perhaps  emboldened  by  the  consul's  smile, 
she  added,  with  'a  more  serious  precision 
which  was,  however,  lost  in  the  sympathizing 
caress  of  her  voice,  "  And  would  you  not  be 
getting  off  and  coming  in  and  resting  a  wee 
bit  before  you  go  further  ?  It  would  be  so 
good  of  you,  and  father  would  think  it  so 
kind.  And  he  will  be  there  now,  if  you  're 
looking." 

The  consul  looked.  The  old  man  was 
standing  in  the  doorway  of  the  cottage,  as 
respectably  uncompromising  as  ever,  with  the 
slight  concession  to  his  rural  surroundings  of 
wearing  a  Tarn  o'  Shanter  and  easy  slippers. 
The  consul  dismounted  and  entered.  The 
interior  was  simply,  but  tastefully  furnished. 
It  struck  him  that  the  Scotch  prudence  and 
economy,  which  practically  excluded  display 
and  meretricious  glitter,  had  reached  the 
simplicity  of  the  truest  art  and  the  most  re 
fined  wealth.  He  felt  he  could  understand 
Gray's  enthusiasm,  and  by  an  odd  associa 
tion  of  ideas  he  found  himself  thinking  of 
the  resigned  face  of  the  lonely  passenger  on 
the  Skyscraper. 


YOUNG   ROBIN   GRAY.  109 

"  Have  you  heard  any  news  of  your  friend 
who  went  to  Eio  ?  "  he  asked  pleasantly,  but 
without  addressing  himself  particularly  to 
either. 

There  was  a  perceptible  pause  ;  doubtless 
of  deference  to  her  father  on  the  part  of  the 
young  girl,  and  of  the  usual  native  conscien 
tious  caution  on  the  part  of  the  father,  but 
neither  betrayed  any  embarrassment  or  emo 
tion.  *•  No ;  he  would  not  be  writing  yet," 
she  at  length  said  simply,  "he  would  be 
waiting  until  he  was  settled  to  his  business. 
Jamie  would  be  waiting  until  he  could  say 
how  he  was  doing,  father?  "  she  appealed  in 
terrogatively  to  the  old  man. 

"Ay,  James  Gow  would  not  fash  him 
self  to  write  compliments  and  gossip  till  he 
knew  his  position  and  work,"  corroborated 
the  old  man.  "  He  '11  not  be  going  two  thou 
sand  miles  to  send  us  what  we  can  read  in 
the  « St.  Kentigern  Herald.'  But,"  he 
added,  suddenly,  with  a  recall  of  cautious 
ness,  "  perhaps  you  will  be  hearing  of  the 
ship?" 

"The  consul  will  not  be  remembering 
what  he  hears  of  all  the  ships,"  interposed 
the  young  girl,  with  the  same  gentle  affecta 
tion  of  superior  worldly  knowledge  which 


110  YOUNG  ROBIN  GRAY. 

had  before  amused  him.  "  We  '11  be  weary 
ing  him,  father,"  and  the  subject  dropped. 

The  consul,  glancing  around  the  room 
again,  but  always  returning  to  the  sweet  and 
patient  seriousness  of  the  young  girl's  face 
and  the  grave  decorum  of  her  father,  would 
have  liked  to  ask  another  question,  but  it 
was  presently  anticipated ;  for  when  he  had 
exhausted  the  current  topics,  in  which  both 
father  and  daughter  displayed  a  quiet  saga 
city,  and  he  had  gathered  a  sufficient  know 
ledge  of  their  character  to  seem  to  justify 
Gray's  enthusiam,  and  was  rising  to  take  his 
leave,  the  young  girl  said  timidly :  — 

"  Would  ye  not  let  Bessie  take  your  horse 
to  the  grass  field  over  yonder,  and  yourself 
stay  with  us  to  dinner  ?  It  would  be  most 
kind,  and  you  would  meet  a  great  friend  of 
yours  who  will  be  here." 

"  Mr.  Gray  ?  "  suggested  the  consul  auda 
ciously.  Yet  he  was  greatly  surprised  when 
the  young  girl  said  quietly,  "  Ay." 

*'  He  '11  be  coming  in  the  loch  with  his 
yacht,"  said  the  old  man.  "  It 's  not  so  ex 
pensive  lying  here  as  at  Bannock,  I  'm  think 
ing  ;  and  the  men  cannot  gang  ashore  for 
drink.  Eh,  but  it's  an  awful  waste  o' 
pounds,  shillings,  and  pence,  keeping  these 


YOUNG  ROBIN  GRAY.  Ill 

gowks  in  idleness  with  no  feeshin'  nor  carry 
ing  of  passengers." 

"Ay,  but  it's  better  Mr.  Gray  should 
pay  them  for  being  decent  and  well-behaved 
on  board  his  ship,  than  that  they  should  be 
out  of  work  and  rioting  in  taverns  and  lodg 
ing-houses.  And  you  yourself,  father,  re 
member  the  herrin'  fishers  that  come  ashore 
at  Ardie,  and  the  deck  hands  of  the  ex 
cursion  boat,  and  the  language  they'll  be 
using." 

"  Have  you  had  a  cruise  in  the  yacht  ?  " 
asked  the  consul  quickly. 

"  Ay,"  said  the  father,  "  we  have  been 
up  and  down  the  loch,  and  around  the  far 
point,  but  not  for  boardin'  or  lodgin'  the 
night,  nor  otherwise  conteenuing  or  parteeci- 
pating.  I  have  explained  to  Mr.  Gray  that 
we  must  return  to  our  own  home  and  our 
own  porridge  at  evening,  and  he  has  agreed, 
and  even  come  with  us.  He  's  a  decent 
enough  lad,  and  not  above  instructing  but 
extraordinar'  extravagant." 

"  Ye  know,  father,"  interposed  the  young 
girl,  "  he  talks  of  fitting  up  the  yacht  for 
the  fishing,  and  taking  some  of  his  most  de 
cent  men  on  shares.  He  says  he  was  very 
fond  of  fishing  off  the  Massachusetts  coast, 


112  YOUNG  ROBIN   GRAY. 

in  America.  It  will  be,  I  'm  thinking,"  she 
said,  suddenly  turning  to  the  consul  with 
an  almost  pathetic  appeal  in  her  voice,  "a 
great  occupation  for  the  rich  young  men 
over  there." 

The  consul,  desperately  struggling  with  a 
fanciful  picture  of  Mr.  Robert  Gray  as  a  her 
ring  fisher,  thought  gravely  that  it  "  might 
be."  But  he  thought  still  more  gravely, 
though  silently,  of  this  singular  companion 
ship,  and  was  somewhat  anxious  to  confront 
his  friend  with  his  new  acquaintances.  He 
had  not  long  to  wait.  The  sun  was  just  dip 
ping  behind  the  hill  when  the  yacht  glided 
into  the  lonely  loch.  A  boat  was  put  off, 
and  in  a  few  moments  Robert  Gray  was 
climbing  the  little  path  from  the  loch. 

Had  the  consul  expected  any  embarrass 
ment  or  lover-like  consciousness  on  the  face 
of  Mr.  Gray  at  their  unexpected  meeting, 
he  would  have  been  disappointed.  Nor 
was  the  young  man's  greeting  of  father  and 
daughter,  whom  he  addressed  as  Mr.  and 
Miss  Callender,  marked  by  any  tenderness 
or  hesitation.  On  the  contrary,  a  certain 
seriousness  and  quiet  reticence,  unlike  Gray, 
which  might  have  been  borrowed  from  his 
new  friends,  characterized  his  speech  and 


YOUNG   ROBIN   GRAY.  113 

demeanor.  Beyond  this  freemasonry  of  sad 
repression  there  was  no  significance  of  look 
or  word  passed  between  these  two  young 
people.  The  girl's  voice  retained  its  even 
pathos.  Gray's  grave  politeness  was  equally 
divided  between  her  and  her  father.  He 
corroborated  what  Callender  had  said  of  his 
previous  visits  without  affectation  or  demon 
stration  ;  he  spoke  of  the  possibilities  of  his 
fitting  up  the  yacht  for  the  fishing  season 
with  a  practical  detail  and  economy  that  left 
the  consul's  raillery  ineffective.  Even  when, 
after  dinner,  the  consul  purposely  walked 
out  in  the  garden  with  the  father,  Gray  and 
Ailsa  presently  followed  them  without  lin 
gering  or  undue  precipitation,  and  with  no 
change  of  voice  or  manner.  The  consul  was 
perplexed.  Had  the  girl  already  told  Gray 
of  her  lover  across  the  sea,  and  was  this  singu 
lar  restraint  their  joint  acceptance  of  their 
fate ;  or  was  he  mistaken  in  supposing  that 
their  relations  were  anything  more  than  the 
simple  friendship  of  patron  and  protegee  ? 
Gray  was  rich  enough  to  indulge  in  such  a 
fancy,  and  the  father  and  daughter  were  too 
proud  to  ever  allow  it  to  influence  their  own 
independence.  In  any  event  the  consul's 
rii-lit  to  divulge  the  secret  he  was  acciden- 

O  O 


114  YOUNG  ROBIN  GRAY. 

tally  possessed  of  seemed  more  questionable 
than  ever.  Nor  did  there  appear  to  be  any 
opportunity  for  a  confidential  talk  with  Gray, 
since  it  was  proposed  that  the  whole  party 
should  return  to  the  yacht  for  supper,  after 
which  the  consul  should  be  dropped  at  the 
pier-head,  distant  only  a  few  minutes  from 
his  hotel,  and  his  horse  sent  to  him  the  next 
day. 

A  faint  moon  was  shimmering  along  the 
surface  of  Loch  Dour  in  icy  little  ripples 
when  they  pulled  out  from  the  shadows  of 
the  hillside.  By  the  accident  of  position, 
Gray,  who  was  steering,  sat  beside  Ailsa  in 
the  stern,  while  the  consul  and  Mr.  Cullen 
der  were  further  forward,  although  within 
hearing.  The  faces  of  the  young  people 
were  turned  towards  each  other,  yet  in  the 
cold  moonlight  the  consul  fancied  they 
looked  as  impassive  and  unemotional  as  sta 
tues.  The  few  distant,  far-spaced  lights 
that  trembled  on  the  fading  shore,  the  lonely 
glitter  of  the  water,  the  blackness  of  the 
pine-clad  ravines  seemed  to  be  a  part  of  this 
repression,  until  the  vast  melancholy  of  the 
lake  appeared  to  meet  and  overflow  them 
like  an  advancing  tide.  Added  to  this,  there 
came  from  time  to  time  the  faint  sound  aud 
smell  of  the  distant,  desolate  sea. 


YOUNG  ROBIN  GRAY.  115 

The  consul,  struggling  manfully  to  keep 
up  a  spasmodic  discussion  on  Scotch  diminu 
tives  in  names,  found  himself  mechanically 
saying : 

"  And  James  you  call  Jamie  ?  " 

*'  Ay ;  but  ye  would  say,  to  be  pure 
Scotch,  '  Hamish,'  "  said  Mr.  Callender  pre 
cisely.  The  girl,  however,  had  not  spoken  ; 
but  Gray  turned  to  her  with  something  of 
his  old  gayety. 

"  And  I  suppose  you  would  call  me 
4  Robbie '  ?  " 

"Ah,  no!" 

"What  then?" 

"  Robin,." 

Her  voice  was  low  yet  distinct,  but  she 
had  thrown  into  the  two  syllables  such  infi 
nite  tenderness,  that  the  consul  was  for  an 
instant  struck  with  an  embarrassment  akin 
to  that  he  had  felt  in  the  cabin  of  the  Sky 
scraper,  and  half  expected  the  father  to  utter 
a  shocked  protest.  And  to  save  what  he 
thought  would  be  an  appalling  silence,  he 
said  with  a  quiet  laugh  :  — 

"  That 's  the  fellow  who  '  made  the  assem 
bly  shine  '  in  the  song,  is  n't  it  ?  " 

"That  was  Robin  Adair,"  said  Gray 
quietly ;  "  unfortunately  I  would  only  be 


116  YOUNG  ROBIN  GRAY. 

4  Robin    Gray,'    and   that 's    quite    another 
song." 

"  Auld  Robin  Gray,  sir,  deestinctly  '  auld ' 
in  the  song,"  interrupted  Mr.  Callender  with 
stern  precision  ;  "  and  I  'm  thinking  he  was 
not  so  very  unfortunate  either." 

The  discussion  of  Scotch  diminutives  halt 
ing  here,  the  boat  sped  on  silently  to  the 
yacht.  But  although  Robert  Gray,  as  host, 
recovered  some  of  his  usual  lighthearted- 
ness,  the  consul  failed  to  discover  anything 
in  his  manner  to  indicate  the  lover,  nor  did 
Miss  Ailsa  after  her  single  lapse  of  tender 
accent  exhibit  the  least  consciousness.  It 
was  true  that  their  occasional  frank  allusions 
to  previous  conversations  seemed  to  show 
that  their  opportunities  had  not  been  re 
stricted,  but  nothing  more.  He  began  again 
to  think  he  was  mistaken. 

As  he  wished  to  return  early,  and  yet  not 
hasten  the  Callenders,  he  prevailed  upon 
Gray  to  send  him  to  the  pier-head  first,  and 
not  disturb  the  party.  As  he  stepped  into 
the  boat,  something  in  the  appearance  of  the 
coxswain  awoke  an  old  association  in  his 
mind.  The  man  at  first  seemed  to  avoid 
his  scrutiny,  but  when  they  were  well  away 
from  the  yacht,  he  said  hesitatingly :  — 


YOUNG  ROBIN  GRAY.       117 

"  I  see  you  remember  me,  sir.  But  if  it 's 
all  the  same  to  you,  I  've  got  a  good  berth 
here  and  would  like  to  keep  it." 

The  consul  had  a  flash  of  memory.  It 
was  the  boatswain  of  the  Skyscraper,  one  of 
the  least  objectionable  of  the  crew.  "  But 
what  are  you  doing  here  ?  you  shipped  for 
the  voyage,"  he  said  sharply. 

"  Yes,  but  I  got  away  at  Key  West,  when 
I  knew  what  was  coming.  I  was  n't  on  her 
when  she  was  abandoned." 

"  Abandoned  !  "  repeated  the  consul. 
"  What  the  d — 1 !  Do  you  mean  to  say  she 
was  wrecked  ?  " 

"  Well,  yes  —  you  know  what  I  mean,  sir. 
It  was  an  understood  thing.  She  was  over- 
insured  and  scuttled  in  the  Bahamas.  It 
was  a  put-up  job,  and  I  reckoned  I  was  well 
out  of  it." 

"  But  there  was  a  passenger !  What  of 
him  ?  "  demanded  the  consul  anxiously. 

"  Dunno !  But  I  reckon  he  got  away. 
There  wasn't  any  of  the  crew  lost  that  I 
know  of.  Let 's  see,  he  was  an  engineer, 
wasn't  he?  I  reckon  he  had  to  take  a 
hand  at  the  pumps,  and  his  chances  with 
the  rest." 

"  Does  Mr.  Gray  know  of  this  ?  "  asked 
the  consul  after  a  pause. 


118  YOUNG  ROBIN   GRAY. 

The  man  stared. 

"Not  from  me,  sir.  You  see  it  was  no- 
thin'  to  him,  and  I  didn't  care  talking  much 
about  the  Skyscraper.  It  was  hushed  up 
in  the  papers.  You  won't  go  back  on  me, 
sir?" 

"You  don't  know  what  became  of  the 
passenger  ?  " 

"No!  But  he  was  a  Scotchman,  and 
they  're  bound  to  fall  on  their  feet  some 
how  1" 


in. 

THE  December  fog  that  overhung  St. 
Kentigern  had  thinned  sufficiently  to  permit 
the  passage  of  a  few  large  snowflakes,  soiled 
in  their  descent,  until  in  color  and  consis 
tency  they  spotted  the  steps  of  the  Consulate 
and  the  umbrellas  of  the  passers-by  like 
sprinklings  of  gray  mortar.  Nevertheless  the 
consul  thought  the  streets  preferable  to  the 
persistent  gloom  of  his  office,  and  sallied  out. 
Youthful  mercantile  St.  Kentigern  strode 
sturdily  past  him  in  the  lightest  covert  coats ; 
collegiate  St.  Kentigern  fluttered  by  in  the 
scantiest  of  red  gowns,  shaming  the  furs  that 
defended  his  more  exotic  blood ;  and  the 
bare  red  feet  of  a  few  factory  girls,  albeit 
their  heads  and  shoulders  were  draped  and 
hooded  in  thick  shawls,  filled  him  with  a 
keen  sense  of  his  effeminacy.  Everything  of 
earth,  air,  and  sky,  and  even  the  faces  of 
those  he  looked  upon,  seemed  to  be  set  in 
the  hard,  patient  endurance  of  the  race. 
Everywhere  on  that  dismal  day,  he  fancied 
he  could  see  this  energy  without  restlessness, 


120  YOUNG   ROBIN  GRAY. 

this  earnestness  without  geniality,  all  grimly 
set  against  the  hard  environment  of  circum 
stance  and  weather. 

The  consul  turned  into  one  of  the  main 
arteries  of  St.  Kentigern,  a  wide  street  that, 
however,  began  and  ended  inconsequently, 
and  with  half  a  dozen  social  phases  in  as 
many  blocks.  Here  the  snow  ceased,  the 
fog  thickened  suddenly  with  the  waning  day, 
and  the  consul  found  himself  isolated  and 
cut  off  on  a  block  which  he  did  not  remem 
ber,  with  the  clatter  of  an  invisible  tramway 
in  his  ears.  It  was  a  block  of  small  houses 
with  smaller  shop-fronts.  The  one  imme 
diately  before  him  seemed  to  be  an  optician's, 
but  the  dimly  lighted  windows  also  displayed 
the  pathetic  reinforcement  of  a  few  watches, 
cheap  jewelry  on  cards,  and  several  cairn 
gorm  brooches  and  pins  set  in  silver*  It 
occurred  to  him  that  he  wanted  a  new  watch 
crystal,  and  that  he  would  procure  it  here 
and  inquire  his  way.  Opening  the  door  he 
perceived  that  there  was  no  one  in  the  shop, 
but  from  behind  the  counter  another  open 
door  disclosed  a  neat  sitting-room,  so  close 
to  the  street  that  it  gave  the  casual  custo 
mer  the  sensation  of  having  intruded  upon 
domestic  privacy.  The  consul's  entrance 


YOUNG  ROBIN   GRAY.  121 

tinkled  a  small  bell  which  brought  a  figure 
to  the  door.  It  was  Ailsa  Callender. 

The  consul  was  startled.  He  had  not 
seen  her  since  he  had  brought  to  their  cot 
tage  the  news  of  the  shipwreck  with  a  pre 
caution  and  delicacy  that  their  calm  self-con 
trol  and  patient  resignation,  however,  seemed 
to  make  almost  an  impertinence.  But  this 
was  no  longer  the  handsome  shop  in  the  chief 
thoroughfare  with  its  two  shopmen,  which 
he  previously  knew  as  "  Callender's."  And 
Ailsa  here !  What  misfortune  had  befallen 
them? 

Whatever  it  was,  there  was  no  shadow  of 
it  in  her  clear  eyes  and  frank  yet  timid  rec 
ognition  of  him.  Falling  in  with  her  stoical 
and  reticent  acceptance  of  it,  he  nevertheless 
gathered  that  the  Callenders  had  lost  money 
in  some  invention  which  James  Gow  had 
taken  with  him  to  Rio,  but  which  was  sunk 
in  the  ship.  With  this  revelation  of  a  busi 
ness  interest  in  what  he  had  believed  was 
only  a  sentimental  relation,  the  consul  ven 
tured  to  continue  his  inquiries.  Mr.  Gow 
had  escaped  with  his  life  and  had  reached 
Honduras,  where  he  expected  to  try  his  for 
tunes  anew.  It  might  be  a  year  or  two 
longer  before  there  were  any  results.  Did 


122  YOUNG  ROBIN   GRAY. 

the  consul  know  anything  of  Honduras  ? 
There  was  coffee  there  —  so  she  and  her 
father  understood.  All  this  with  little  hope 
fulness,  no  irritation,  but  a  divine  patience 
in  her  eyes.  The  consul,  who  found  that  his 
watch  required  extensive  repairing,  and  had 
suddenly  devoloped  an  inordinate  passion  for 
cairngorms,  watched  her  as  she  opened  the 
show-case  with  no  affectation  of  unfamiliar- 
ity  with  her  occupation,  but  with  all  her  old 
serious  concern.  Surely  she  would  have 
made  as  thorough  a  shop-girl  as  she  would  — 
His  half-formulated  thought  took  the  shape 
of  a  question. 

"  Have  you  seen  Mr.  Gray  since  his  re 
turn  from  the  Mediterranean  ?  " 

Ah  !  one  of  the  brooches  had  slipped  from 
her  fingers  to  the  bottom  of  the  case.  There 
was  an  interval  or  two  of  pathetic  murmur 
ing,  with  her  fair  head  under  the  glass,  be 
fore  she  could  find  it ;  then  she  lifted  her 
eyes  to  the  consul.  They  were  still  slightly 
suffused  with  her  sympathetic  concern. 
The  stone,  which  was  set  in  a  thistle  —  the 
national  emblem  —  did  he  not  know  it  ?  — 
had  dropped  out.  But  she  could  put  it  in. 
It  was  pretty  and  not  expensive.  It  was 
marked  twelve  shillings  on  the  card,  but  he 


YOUNG  ROBIN  GRAY.  123 

could  have  it  for  ten  shillings.  No,  she  had 
not  seen  Mr.  Gray  since  they  had  lost  their 
fortune.  (It  struck  the  consul  as  none  the 
less  pathetic  that  she  seemed  really  to  believe 
in  their  former  opulence.)  They  could  not 
be  seeing  him  there  in  a  small  shop,  and 
they  could  not  see  him  elsewhere.  It  was 
far  better  as  it  was.  Yet  she  paused  a  mo 
ment  when  she  had  wrapped  up  the  brooch. 
"  You  'd  be  seeing  him  yourself  some  time  ?  " 
she  added  gently. 

"  Perhaps." 

"  Then  you  '11  not  mind  saying  how  my 
father  and  myself  are  sometimes  thinking  of 
his  goodness  and  kindness,"  she  went  on,  in 
a  voice  whose  tenderness  seemed  to  increase 
with  the  formal  precision  of  her  speech. 

"  Certainly." 

"  And  you  '11  say  we  're  not  forgetting 
him." 

"  I  promise." 

As  she  handed  him  the  parcel  her  lips 
softly  parted  in  what  might  have  been 
equally  a  smile  or  a  sigh. 

He  was  able  to  keep  his  promise  sooner 
than  he  had  imagined.  It  was  only  a  few 
weeks  later  that,  arriving  in  London,  he 
found  Gray's  hatbox  and  bag  in  the  vesti- 


124  YOUNG  ROBIN   GRAY. 

bule  of  his  club,  and  that  gentleman  himself 
in  the  smoking-room.  He  looked  tanned 
and  older. 

"  I  only  came  from  Southampton  an  hour 
ago,  where  I  left  the  yacht.  And,"  shaking 
the  consul's  hand  cordially,  "how's  every 
thing  and  everybody  up  at  old  St.  Kenti- 
gern  ?  " 

The  consul  thought  fit  to  include  his  news 
of  the  Callenders  in  reference  to  that  query, 
and  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  Gray  dwelt  at 
some  length  on  their  change  of  fortune. 
Gray  took  his  cigar  from  his  mouth,  but  did 
not  lift  his  eyes  from  the  fire.  Presently  he 
said,  "  I  suppose  that 's  why  Callender  de 
clined  to  take  the  shares  I  offered  him  in  the 
fishing  scheme.  You  know  I  meant  it,  and 
would  have  done  it." 

"  Perhaps  he  had  other  reasons." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  Gray,  facing 
the  consul  suddenly. 

"  Look  here,  Gray,"  said  the  consul,  "  did 
Miss  Callender  or  her  father  ever  tell  you 
she  was  engaged  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  but  what 's  that  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

"  A  good  deal.  Engagements,  you  know, 
are  sometimes  forced,  unsuitable,  or  unequal, 
and  are  broken  by  circumstances.  Callen 
der  is  proud." 


YOUNG  ROBIN   GRAY.  125 

Gray  turned  upon  the  consul  the  same 
look  of  gravity  that  he  had  worn  on  the 
yacht  —  the  same  look  that  the  consul  even 
fancied  he  had  seen  in  Ailsa's  eyes.  "  That 's 
exactly  where  you  're  mistaken  in  her,"  he 
said  slowly.  "  A  girl  like  that  gives  her 
word  and  keeps  it.  She  waits,  hopes,  ac 
cepts  what  may  come  —  breaks  her  heart,  if 
you  will,  but  not  her  word.  Come,  let's 
talk  of  something  else.  How  did  he  —  that 
man  Gow  —  lose  Callender's  money?" 

The  consul  did  not  see  the  Callenders 
again  on  his  return,  and  perhaps  did  not 
think  it  necessary  to  report  the  meeting. 
But  one  morning  he  was  delighted  to  find 
an  official  document  from  New  York  upon 
his  desk,  asking  him  to  communicate  with 
David  Callender  of  St.  Kentigern,  and,  on 
proof  of  his  identity,  giving  him  authority  to 
draw  the  sum  of  five  thousand  dollars  dam 
ages  awarded  for  the  loss  of  certain  property 
on  the  Skyscraper,  at  the  request  of  James 
Gow.  Yet  it  was  with  mixed  sensations 
that  the  consul  sought  the  little  shop  of  the 
optician  with  this  convincing  proof  of  Gow's 
faitlif ulness  and  the  indissolubility  of  Ailsa's 
engagement.  That  there  was  some  sad 
understanding  between  the  girl  and  Gray  he 


126  YOUNG   ROBIN   GRAY. 

did  not  doubt,  and  perhaps  it  was  not  strange 
that  he  felt  a  slight  partisanship  for  his 
friend,  whose  nature  had  so  strangely 
changed.  Miss  Ailsa  was  not  there.  Her 
father  explained  that  her  health  had  required 
a  change,  and  she  was  visiting  some  friends 
on  the  river. 

"  I  'm  thinkin'  that  the  atmosphere  is  not 
so  pure  here.  It  is  deficient  in  ozone.  I 
noticed  it  myself  in  the  early  morning.  No ! 
it  was  not  the  confinement  of  the  shop,  for 
she  never  cared  to  go  out." 

He  received  the  announcement  of  his  good 
fortune  with  unshaken  calm  and  great  prac 
tical  consideration  of  detail.  He  would 
guarantee  his  identity  to  the  consul.  As 
for  James  Gow,  it  was  no  more  than  fair, 
and  what  he  had  expected  of  him.  As  to 
its  being  an  equivalent  of  his  loss,  he  could 
not  tell  until  the  facts  were  before  him. 

"  Miss  Ailsa,"  suggested  the  consul  ven 
turously,  "  will  be  pleased  to  hear  again 
from  her  old  friend,  and  know  that  ho  is 
succeeding." 

"  I  'm  not  so  sure  that  ye  could  call  it 
'  succeeding,' "  returned  the  old  man,  care 
fully  wiping  the  glasses  of  a  pair  of  specta 
cles  that  he  held  critically  to  the  light, 


YOUNG   ROBIN   GRAY.  127 

**  when  ye  consider  that,  saying  nothing  of 
the  waste  of  valuable  time,  it  only  puts 
James  Gow  back  where  he  was  when  he 
went  away." 

"  But  any  man  who  has  had  the  pleasure 
of  knowing  Mr.  and  Miss  Callender  would 
be  glad  to  be  on  that  footing,"  said  the  con 
sul,  with  polite  significance. 

"  I  'm  not  agreeing  with  you  there,"  said 
Mr.  Callender  quietly ;  "  and  I  'm  observing 
in  ye  of  late  a  tendency  to  combine  business 
wi'  conipleement.  But  it  was  kind  of  ye  to 
call ;  and  I  '11  be  sending  ye  the  authoriza 
tion." 

Which  he  did.  But  the  consul,  passing 
through  the  locality  a  few  weeks  later,  was 
somewhat  concerned  to  find  the  shop  closed, 
with  others  on  the  same  block,  behind  a 
hoarding  that  indicated  rebuilding  and  im 
provement.  Further  inquiry  elicited  the 
fact  that  the  small  leases  had  been  bought 
up  by  some  capitalist,  and  that  Mr.  Callen 
der,  with  the  others,  had  benefited  thereby. 
But  there  was  no  trace  nor  clew  to  his  pres 
ent  locality.  He  and  his  daughter  seemed 
to  have  again  vanished  with  this  second 
change  in  their  fortunes. 

It  was  a  late  March  morning  when  the 


128  YOUNG  ROBIN   GRAY. 

streets  were  dumb  with  snow,  and  the  air 
was  filled  with  flying  granulations  that 
tinkled  against  the  windows  of  the  Consulate 
like  fairy  sleigh-bells,  when  there  was  the 
stamping  of  snow-clogged  feet  in  the  outer 
hall,  and  the  door  was  opened  to  Mr.  and 
Miss  Callender.  For  an  instant  the  consul 
was  startled.  The  old  man  appeared  as 
usual  —  erect,  and  as  frigidly  respectable  as 
one  of  the  icicles  that  fringed  the  window, 
but  Miss  Ailsa  was,  to  his  astonishment, 
brilliant  with  a  new-found  color,  and  spark 
ling  with  health  and  only  half-repressed  ani 
mation.  The  snow-flakes,  scarcely  melting 
on  the  brown  head  of  this  true  daughter  of 
the  North,  still  crowned  her  hood ;  and,  as 
she  threw  back  her  brown  cloak  and  dis 
closed  a  plump  little  scarlet  jacket  and 
brown  skirt,  the  consul  could  not  resist  her 
suggested  likeness  to  some  bright-eyed  robin 
redbreast,  to  whom  the  inclement  weather 
had  given  a  charming  audacity.  And  shy 
and  demure  as  she  still  was,  it  was  evident 
that  some  change  had  been  wrought  in  her 
other  than  that  evoked  by  the  stimulus  of 
her  native  sky  and  air. 

To  his  eager  questioning,  the  old  man  re 
plied  briefly  that  he  had  bought    the   old 


YOUNG  ROBTN   GRAY,  129 

cottage  at  Loch  Dour,  where  they  were  liv 
ing,  and  where  he  had  erected  a  small  manu 
factory  and  laboratory  for  the  making  of 
his  inventions,  which  had  become  profitable. 
The  consul  reiterated  his  delight  at  meeting 
them  again. 

"  I  'm  not  so  sure  of  that,  sir,  when  you 
know  the  business  on  which  I  come,"  said 
Mr.  Callender,  dropping  rigidly  into  a  chair, 
and  clasping  his  hands  over  the  crutch  of  a 
shepherd-like  staff.  "  Ye  mind,  perhaps,  that 
ye  conveyed  to  me,  osteensibly  at  the  request 
of  James  Gow,  a  certain  sum  of  money,  for 
which  I  gave  ye  a  good  and  sufficient  guaran 
tee.  I  thought  at  the  time  that  it  was  a 
most  feckless  and  unbusiness-like  proceeding 
on  the  part  of  James,  as  it  was  without  cor- 
roboration  or  advice  by  letter ;  but  I  took 
the  money." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  he  made  no 
allusion  to  it  in  his  other  letters?"  inter 
rupted  the  consul,  glancing  at  Ailsa. 

"  There  were  no  other  letters  at  the  time," 
said  Callender  dryly.  "  But  about  a  month 
afterwards  we  did  receive  a  letter  from  him 
enclosing  a  draft  and  a  full  return  of  the 
profits  of  the  invention,  which  he  had  sold  in 
Honduras.  Ye  '11  observe  the  deescrepancy ! 


130  TO  UNO  ROBIN  GRAY. 

I  then  wrote  to  the  bank  on  which  I  had 
drawn  as  you  authorized  me,  and  I  found 
that  they  knew  nothing  of  any  damages 
awarded,  but  that  the  sum  I  had  drawn  had 
been  placed  to  my  credit  by  Mr.  Robert 
Gray." 

In  a  flash  the  consul  recalled  the  one  or 
two  questions  that  Gray  had  asked  him,  and 
saw  it  all.  For  an  instant  he  felt  the  whole 
bitterness  of  Gray's  misplaced  generosity  — 
its  exposure  and  defeat.  He  glanced  again 
hopelessly  at  Ailsa.  In  the  eye  of  that  fresh, 
glowing,  yet  demure,  young  goddess,  unhal 
lowed  as  the  thought  might  be,  there  was 
certainly  a  distinctly  tremulous  wink. 

The  consul  took  heart.  "  I  believe  I  need 
not  say,  Mr.  Callender,"  he  began  with  some 
stiffness,  "  that  this  is  as  great  a  surprise  to 
me  as  to  you.  I  had  no  reason  to  believe 
the  transaction  other  than  bona  fide,  and 
acted  accordingly.  If  my  friend,  deeply 
sympathizing  with  your  previous  misfortune, 
has  hit  upon  a  delicate,  but  unbusiness-like 
way  of  assisting  you  temporarily  —  I  say 
temporarily,  because  it  must  have  been  as 
patent  to  him  as  to  you,  that  you  would 
eventually  find  out  his  generous  deceit  — 
you  surely  can  forgive  him  for  the  sake  of 


YOUNG  ROBIN  GRAY.  131 

his  kind  intention.  Nay,  more ;  may  I  point 
out  to  you  that  you  have  no  right  to  assume 
that  this  benefaction  was  intended  exclu 
sively  for  you ;  if  Mr.  Gray,  in  his  broader 
sympathy  with  you  and  your  daughter,  has 
in  this  way  chosen  to  assist  and  strengthen 
the  position  of  a  gentleman  so  closely  con 
nected  with  you,  but  still  struggling  with 
hard  fortune  "  — 

"  I  'd  have  ye  know,  sir,"  interrupted  the 
old  man,  rising  to  his  feet,  "that  ma  frien' 
Mr.  James  Gow  is  as  independent  of  yours 
as  he  is  of  me  and  mine.  He  has  married, 
sir,  a  Mrs.  Hernandez,  the  rich  widow  of  a 
coffee-planter,  and  now  is  the  owner  of  the 
whole  estate,  minus  the  encumbrance  of  three 
children.  And  now,  sir,  you  '11  take  this," — 
he  drew  from  his  pocket  an  envelope.  "  It 's 
a  draft  for  five  thousand  dollars,  with  the 
ruling  rate  of  interest  computed  from  the 
day  I  received  it  till  this  day,  and  ye  '11  give 
it  to  your  frien'  when  ye  see  him.  And  ye  '11 
just  say  to  him  from  me  "  — 

But  Miss  Ailsa,  with  a  spirit  and  inde 
pendence  that  challenged  her  father's,  here 
suddenly  fluttered  between  them  with  spark 
ling  eyes  and  outstretched  hands. 

"  And  ye  '11  say  to  him  from  me  that  a 
more  honorable,  noble,  and  generous  man, 


132  YOUNG  ROBIN  GRAY. 

and  a  kinder,  truer,  and  better  friend  than 
he,  cannot  be  found  anywhere !  And  that 
the  f  oolishest  and  most  extravagant  thing  he 
ever  did  is  better  than  the  wisest  afad  most 
prudent  thing  that  anybody  else  ever  did, 
could,  or  would  do !  And  if  he  was  a  bit 
overproud  —  it  was  only  because  those  about 
him  were  overproud  and  foolish.  And  you  '11 
tell  him  that  we  're  wearying  for  him  !  And 
when  you  give  him  that  daft  letter  from  fa 
ther  you  '11  give  him  this  bit  line  from  me," 
she  went  on  rapidly  as  she  laid  a  tiny  note 
in  his  hand.  "  And,"  with  wicked  dancing 
eyes  that  seemed  to  snap  the  last  bond  of 
repression,  "  ye  '11  give  him  that  too,  and  say 
I  sent  it !  " 

There  was  a  stir  in  the  official  apartment ! 
The  portraits  of  Lincoln  and  Washington 
rattled  uneasily  in  their  frames ;  but  it  was 
no  doubt  only  a  discreet  blast  of  the  north 
wind  that  drowned  the  echo  of  a  kiss. 

"  Ailsa !  "  gasped  the  shocked  Mr.  Callen- 
der. 

"  Ah  !  but,  father,  if  it  had  not  been  for 
him  we  would  not  have  known  Robin." 

It  was  the  last  that  the  consul  saw  of  Ailsa 
Callender;  for  the  next  summer  when  he 
called  at  Loch  Dour  she  was  Mrs.  Gray. 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  SISKYOU. 


I. 

ON  the  fifteenth  of  August,  1854,  what 
seemed  to  be  the  entire  population  of  Wyn- 
yard's  Bar  was  collected  upon  a  little  bluff 
which  overlooked  the  rude  wagon  road  that 
was  the  only  approach  to  the  settlement. 
In  general  appearance  the  men  differed  but 
little  from  ordinary  miners,  although  the 
foreign  element,  shown  in  certain  Spanish 
peculiarities  of  dress  and  color,  predomi 
nated,  and  some  of  the  men  were  further  dis 
tinguished  by  the  delicacy  of  education  and 
sedentary  pursuits.  Yet  Wynyard's  Bar  was 
a  city  of  refuge,  comprised  among  its  in 
habitants  a  number  who  were  "  wanted  "  by 
the  State  authorities,  and  its  actual  attitude 
at  that  moment  was  one  of  open  rebellion 
against  the  legal  power,  and  of  particular 
resistance  to  the  apprehension  by  warrant  of 
one  of  its  prominent  members.  This  gentle 
man,  Major  Overstone,  then  astride  of  a  gray 


134  THE   SHERIFF   OF  SISKYOU. 

mustang,  and  directing  the  movements  of 
the  crowd,  had,  a  few  days  before,  killed  the 
sheriff  of  Siskyou  county,  who  had  at 
tempted  to  arrest  him  for  the  double  offense 
of  misappropriating  certain  corporate  funds 
of  the  State  and  the  shooting  of  the  editor 
who  had  imprudently  exposed  him.  The 
lesser  crime  of  homicide  might  have  been 
overlooked  by  the  authorities,  but  its  repeti 
tion  upon  the  body  of  their  own  over-zealous 
and  misguided  official  could  not  pass  unchal 
lenged  if  they  expected  to  arrest  Overstone 
for  the  more  serious  offense  against  property. 
So  it  was  known  that  a  new  sheriff  had  been 
appointed  and  was  coming  to  Wynyard's  Bar 
with  an  armed  posse.  But  it  was  also  under 
stood  that  this  invasion  would  be  resisted  by 
the  Bar  to  its  last  man. 

All  eyes  were  turned  upon  a  fringe  of 
laurel  and  butternut  that  encroached  upon 
the  road  half  a  mile  away,  where  it  seemed 
that  such  of  the  inhabitants  who  were  miss 
ing  from  the  bluff  were  hidden  to  give  warn 
ing  or  retard  the  approach  of  the  posse.  A 
gray  haze,  slowly  rising  between  the  fringe 
and  the  distant  hillside,  was  recognized  as 
the  dust  of  a  cavalcade  passing  along  the 
invisible  highway.  In  the  hush  of  expec- 


THE   SHERIFF   OF  SISKYOU.  135 

tancy  that  followed,  the  irregular  clatter  of 
hoofs,  the  sharp  crack  of  a  rifle,  and  a 
sudden  halt  were  faintly  audible.  The 
men,  scattered  in  groups  on  the  bluff,  ex 
changed  a  smile  of  grim  satisfaction. 

Not  so  their  leader !  A  quick  start  and 
an  oath  attracted  attention  to  him.  To  their 
surprise  he  was  looking  in  another  direction, 
but  as  they  looked  too  they  saw  and  under 
stood  the  cause.  A  file  of  horsemen,  hitherto 
undetected,  were  slowly  passing  along  the 
little  ridge  on  their  right.  Their  compact 
accoutrements  and  the  yellow  braid  on  their 
blue  jackets,  distinctly  seen  at  that  distance, 
showed  them  to  be  a  detachment  of  United 
States  cavalry. 

Before  the  assemblage  could  realize  this 
new  invasion  a  nearer  clatter  of  hoofs  was 
heard  along  the  high  road,  and  one  of  the 
ambuscading  party  dashed  up  from  the 
fringe  of  woods  below.  His  face  was  flushed, 
but  triumphant. 

"  A  reg'lar  skunk —  by  the  living  hokey !  " 
he  panted,  pointing  to  the  faint  haze  that 
was  again  slowly  rising  above  the  invisible 
road.  "  They  backed  down  as  soon  as  they 
saw  our  hand,  and  got  a  hole  through  their 
new  sheriff's  hat.  But  what  are  you  lookin' 
at?  What 'sup?" 


136  THE   SHERIFF  OF  SISKYOU. 

The  leader  impatiently  pointed  with  a 
darkening  face  to  the  distant  file. 

"  Reg'lars,  by  gum !  "  ejaculated  the 
other.  "  But  Uncle  Sam  ain't  in  this  game. 
Wot  right  have  they  "  — 

"  Dry  up !  "  said  the  leader. 

The  detachment  was  now  moving  at  right 
angles  with  the  camp,  but  suddenly  halted, 
almost  doubling  upon  itself  in  some  evident 
commotion.  A  dismounted  figure  was  seen 
momentarily  flying  down  the  hillside  dodg 
ing  from  bush  to  bush  until  lost  in  the  un 
derbrush.  A  dozen  shots  were  fired  over 
its  head,  and  then  the  whole  detachment 
wheeled  and  came  clattering  down  the  trail 
in  the  direction  of  the  camp.  A  single  rider 
less  horse,  evidently  that  of  the  fugitive,  fol 
lowed. 

"  Spread  yourselves  along  the  ridge,  every 
man  of  you,  and  cover  them  as  they  enter 
the  gulch  !  "  shouted  the  leader.  "  But  not 
a  shot  until  I  give  the  word.  Scatter !  " 

The  assemblage  dispersed  like  a  startled 
village  of  prairie  dogs,  squatting  behind 
every  available  bush  and  rock  along  the  line 
of  bluff.  The  leader  alone  trotted  quietly 
to  the  head  of  the  gulch. 

The  nine  cavalrymen  came  smartly  up  in 


THE   SHERIFF   OF  SISKYOU.  137 

twos,  a  young  officer  leading.  The  single 
figure  of  Major  Overstone  opposed  them 
with  a  command  to  halt.  Looking  up,  the 
young  officer  drew  rein,  said  a  word  to  his 
file  leader,  and  the  four  files  closed  in  a  com 
pact  square  motionless  on  the  road.  The 
young  officer's  unsworded  hand  hung  quietly 
at  his  thigh,  the  men's  unslung  carbines 
rested  easily  on  their  saddles.  Yet  at  that 
moment  every  man  of  them  knew  that  they 
were  covered  by  a  hundred  rifles  and  shot 
guns  leveled  from  every  bush,  and  that  they 
were  caught  helplessly  in  a  trap. 

"  Since  when,"  said  Major  Overstone  with 
an  affectation  of  tone  and  manner  different 
from  that  in  which  he  had  addressed  his 
previous  companions,  "have  the  Ninth 
United  States  Cavalry  helped  to  serve  a 
State  court's  pettifogging  process  ?  " 

"  We  are  hunting  a  deserter  —  a  half- 
breed  agent  —  who  has  just  escaped  us,"  re 
turned  the  officer.  His  voice  was  boyish  — 
so,  too,  was  his  figure  in  its  slim,  cadet- 
like  smartness  of  belted  tunic  —  but  very 
quiet  and  level,  although  his  face  was  still 
flushed  with  the  shock  and  shame  of  his  sur 
prise. 

The  relaxation  of  relief  went  through  the 


138  THE   SHERIFF   OF  SISKYOU. 

wrought  and  waiting  camp.  The  soldiers 
were  not  seeking  them.  Ready  as  these  des 
perate  men  had  been  to  do  their  leader's 
bidding,  they  were  well  aware  that  a  mo 
mentary  victory  over  the  troopers  would  not 
pass  unpunished,  and  meant  the  ultimate 
dispersion  of  the  camp.  And  quiet  as  these 
innocent  invaders  seemed  to  be  they  would 
no  doubt  sell  their  lives  dearly.  The  embat 
tled  desperadoes  glanced  anxiously  at  their 
leader  ;  the  soldiers,  on  the  contrary,  looked 
straight  before  them. 

"  Process  or  no  process,"  said  Major 
Overstone  with  a  sneer,  "  you  've  come  to 
the  last  place  to  recover  your  deserter.  We 
don't  give  up  men  in  Wynyard's  Bar.  And 
they  did  n't  teach  you  at  the  Academy,  sir, 
to  stop  to  take  prisoners  when  you  were  out 
flanked  and  outnumbered." 

"  Bedad !  They  did  n't  teach  you,  Captain 
Overstone,  to  engage  a  battery  at  Cerro 
Gordo  with  a  half  company,  but  you  did  it ; 
more  shame  to  you  now,  sorr,  commandin' 
the  thayves  and  ruffians  you  do." 

"  Silence  !  "  said  the  young  officer. 

The  sleeve  of  the  sergeant  who  had  spoken 
• — with  the  chevrons  of  long  service  upon  it 
—  went  up  to  a  salute,  and  dropped 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  SISKYOU.  139 

again  over  his  carbine  as  he  stared  stolidly 
before  him.  But  his  shot  had  told.  A  flush 
of  mingled  pride  and  shame  passed  over 
Overstone's  face. 

"  Oh !  it 's  you,  Murphy,"  he  said  with  an 
affected  laugh,  "  and  you  have  n't  improved 
with  your  stripes." 

The  young  officer  turned  his  head  slightly. 

"  Attention ! " 

"One  moment  more,"  said  Overstone 
coming  forward.  "  I  have  told  you  that  we 
don't  give  up  any  man  who  seeks  our  pro 
tection.  But,"  he  added  with  a  half -careless, 
half -contemptuous  wave  of  his  hand,  and  a 
significant  glance  at  his  followers,  "  we  don't 
prevent  you  from  seeking  him.  The  road  is 
clear ;  the  camp  is  before  you." 

The  young  officer  continued  without  look 
ing  at  him.  "Forward  —  in  two  files  — 
open  order.  Ma-arch !  " 

The  little  troop  moved  forward,  passed 
Major  Overstone  at  the  head  of  the  gully, 
and  spread  out  on  the  hillside.  The  assem 
bled  camp,  still  armed,  lounging  out  of  am 
bush  here  and  there,  ironically  made  way  for 
them  to  pass.  A  few  moments  of  this  farci 
cal  quest,  and  a  glance  at  the  impenetrably 
wooded  heights  around,  apparently  satisfied 


140  THE  SHERIFF   OF  SISKYOU. 

the  young  officer,  and  he  turned  his  files 
again  into  the  gully.  Major  Overstone  was 
still  lingering  there. 

"  I  hope  you  are  satisfied,"  he  said  grimly. 
He  then  paused,  and  in  a  changed  and  more 
hesitating  voice  added  :  "  I  am  an  older  sol 
dier  than  you,  sir,  but  I  am  always  glad  to 
make  the  acquaintance  of  West  Point."  He 
paused  and  held  out  his  hand. 

West  Point,  still  red  and  rigid,  glanced 
at  him  with  bright  clear  eyes  under  light 
lashes  and  the  peak  of  a  smartly  cocked  cap, 
looked  coolly  at  the  proffered  hand,  raised 
his  own  to  a  stiff  salute,  said,  "  Good  after 
noon,  sir,"  and  rode  away. 

Major  Overstone  wheeled  angrily,  but  in 
doing  so  came  sharply  upon  his  coadjutor  — 
the  leader  of  the  ambushed  party. 

"  Well,  Dawson,"  he  said  impatiently. 
"  Who  was  it  ?  " 

"  Only  one  of  them  d — d  half-breed  Injin 
agents.  He  's  just  over  there  in  the  brush 
with  Simpson,  lying  low  till  the  soldiers 
clear  out." 

"  Did  you  talk  to  him  ?  " 

"  Not  much  ! "  returned  Dawson  scorn 
fully.  "  He  ain't  my  style." 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  SISKYOU.  141 

"  Fetch  him  up  to  my  cabin  ;  he  may  be 
of  some  use  to  us." 

Dawson  looked  skeptical.  "  I  reckon  he 
ain't  no  more  gain  here  than  he  was  over 
there,"  he  said,  and  turned  away. 


it 

THE  cabin  of  Major  Overstone  differed 
outwardly  but  little  from  those  of  his  com 
panions.  It  was  the  usual  structure  of  logs, 
laid  lengthwise,  and  rudely  plastered  at  each 
point  of  contact  with  adobe,  the  material 
from  which  the  chimney,  which  entirely  oc 
cupied  one  gable,  was  built.  It  was  pierced 
with  two  windows  and  a  door,  roofed  with 
smaller  logs,  and  thatched  with  long  half 
cylinders  of  spruce  bark.  But  the  interior 
gave  certain  indications  of  the  distinction  as 
well  as  the  peculiar  experiences  of  its  occu 
pant.  In  place  of  the  usual  bunk  or  berth 
built  against  the  wall  stood  a  small  folding 
camp  bedstead,  and  upon  a  rude  deal  table 
that  held  a  tin  wash-basin  and  pail  lay  two 
ivory-handled  brushes,  combs,  and  other  ele 
gant  toilet  articles,  evidently  the  contents 
of  the  major's  dressing-bag.  A  handsome 
leather  trunk  occupied  one  corner,  with  a 
richly  caparisoned  silver-mounted  Mexican 
saddle,  a  mahogany  case  of  dueling  pistols, 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  SISKYOU.  143 

a  leather  hat-box,  locked  and  strapped,  and 
a  gorgeous  gold  and  quartz  handled  ebony 
"  presentation  "  walking  stick.  There  was 
a  certain  dramatic  suggestion  in  this  revela 
tion  of  the  sudden  and  hurried  transition 
from  a  life  of  ostentatious  luxury  to  one  of 
hidden  toil  and  privation,  and  a  further  sig 
nificance  in  the  slow  and  gradual  distribu 
tion  and  degradation  of  these  elegant  sou 
venirs.  A  pair  of  silver  boot-hooks  had 
been  used  for  raking  the  hearth  and  lifting 
the  coffee  kettle  ;  the  ivory  of  the  brushes 
was  stained  with  coffee ;  the  cut-glass  bottles 
had  lost  their  stoppers,  and  had  been  utilized 
for  vinegar  and  salt ;  a  silver-framed  hand 
mirror  hung  against  the  blackened  wall. 
For  the  major's  occupancy  was  the  sequel 
of  a  hurried  flight  from  his  luxurious  hotel 
at  Sacramento  —  a  transfer  that  he  believed 
was  only  temporary  until  the  affair  blew 
over,  and  he  could  return  in  safety  to  brow 
beat  his  accusers,  as  was  his  wont.  But  this 
had  not  been  so  easy  as  he  had  imagined ; 
his  prosecutors  were  bitter,  and  his  enforced 
seclusion  had  been  prolonged  week  by  week 
until  the  fracas  which  ended  in  the  shooting 
of  the  sheriff  had  apparently  closed  the  door 
upon  his  return  to  civilization  forever.  Only 


144  THE  SHERIFF  OF  SISKYOU. 

here  was  his  life  and  person  secure.  For 
Wynyard's  Bar  had  quickly  succumbed  to 
the  domination  of  his  reckless  courage,  and 
the  eminence  of  his  double  crime  had  made 
him  respected  among  spendthrifts,  gamblers, 
and  gentlemen  whose  performances  had 
never  risen  above  a  stage-coach  robbery  or 
a  single  assassination.  Even  criticism  of  his 
faded  luxuries  had  been  delicately  withheld. 

He  was  leaning  over  his  open  trunk  — 
which  the  camp  popularly  supposed  to  con 
tain  State  bonds  and  securities  of  fabulous 
amount  —  and  had  taken  some  letters  from 
it,  when  a  figure  darkened  the  doorway.  He 
looked  up,  laying  his  papers  carelessly  aside. 
Within  Wynyard's  Bar  property  was  sacred. 

It  was  the  late  fugitive.  Although  some 
hours  had  already  elapsed  since  his  arrival 
in  camp,  and  he  had  presumably  refreshed 
himself  inwardly,  his  outward  appearance 
was  still  disheveled  and  dusty.  Brier  and 
milkweed  clung  to  his  frayed  blouse  and 
trousers.  What  could  be  seen  of  the  skin 
of  his  face  and  hands  under  its  stains  and 
begriming  was  of  a  dull  yellow.  His  light 
eyes  had  all  the  brightness  without  the  rest 
lessness  of  the  mongrel  race.  They  leisurely 
took  in  the  whole  cabin,  the  still  open  trunk 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  SISKTOU.  145 

before  the  major,  and  then  rested  deliber 
ately  on  the  major  himself. 

"  Well,"  said  Major  Overstone  abruptly, 
"  what  brought  you  here  ?  " 

"  Same  as  brought  you,  I  reckon,"  re 
sponded  the  man  almost  as  abruptly. 

The  major  knew  something  of  the  half- 
breed  temper,  and  neither  the  retort  nor  its 
tone  affected  him. 

"  You  did  n't  come  here  just  because  you 
deserted,"  said  the  major  coolly.  "You've 
been  up  to  something  else." 

"  I  have,"  said  the  man  with  equal  cool 
ness. 

"  I  thought  so.  Now,  you  understand 
you  can't  try  anything  of  that  kind  here.  If 
you  do,  up  you  go  on  the  first  tree.  That 's 
Kule  1." 

"  I  see  you  ain't  pertickler  about  waiting 
for  the  sheriff  here,  you  fellers." 

The  major  glanced  at  him  quickly.  He 
seemed  to  be  quite  unconscious  of  any  irony 
in  his  remark,  and  continued  grimly,  "  And 
what's  Rule  2?" 

"  I  reckon  you  need  n't  trouble  yourself 
beyond  No.  1,"  returned  the  major  with  dry 
significance.  Nevertheless,  he  opened  a 
rude  cupboard  in  the  corner  and  brought 


146  THE   SHERIFF   OF  SISKYOU. 

out  a  rich  silver-mounted  cut-glass  drinking- 
flask,  which  he  handed  to  the  stranger. 

"  I  say,"  said  the  half-breed,  admiringly, 
"  yours  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"  Certainly  now,  but  before,  eh  ?  " 

Rule  No.  2  may  have  indicated  that  refer 
ences  to  the  past  held  no  dishonor.  The 
major,  although  accustomed  to  these  pleas 
antries,  laughed  a  little  harshly. 

u  Mine  always,"  he  said.  "  But  yoii  don't 
drink?" 

The  half-breed's  face  darkened  under  its 
grime. 

"  Wot  you  're  givin'  us  ?  I  've  been  filled 
chock  up  by  Simpson  over  thar.  I  reckon 
I  know  when  I  Ve  got  a  load  on." 

"  Were  you  ever  in  Sacramento  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"When?" 

"  Last  week." 

"  Did  you  hear  anything  about  me  ?  " 

The  half-breed  glanced  through  his  tan 
gled  hair  at  the  major  in  some  wonder,  not 
only  at  the  question,  but  at  the  almost  child 
ish  eagerness  with  which  it  was  asked. 

"I  didn't  hear  much  of  anything  else," 
he  answered  grimly. 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  BISK  YOU.  147 

"  And  —  what  did  they  say  ?  " 

"Said  you'd  got  to  be  took  anyhow! 
They  allowed  the  new  sheriff  would  do  it 
too." 

The  major  laughed.  "  Well,  you  heard 
how  the  new  sheriff  did  it  —  skunked 
away  with  his  whole  posse  before  one-eighth 
of  my  men !  You  saw  how  the  rest  of  this 
camp  held  up  your  nine  troopers,  and  that 
sap-headed  cub  of  a  lieutenant  —  did  n't 
you?  You  wouldn't  have  been  standing 
here  if  you  had  n't.  No ;  there  is  n't  the  civil 
process  nor  the  civil  power  in  all  California 
that  can  take  me  out  of  this  camp." 

But  neither  his  previous  curiosity  nor 
present  bravado  seemed  to  impress  the  ragged 
stranger  with  much  favor.  He  glanced 
sulkily  around  the  cabin  and  began  to  shuf 
fle  towards  the  door. 

"Stop!  Where  are  you  going  to?  Sit 
down.  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

The  fugitive  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and 
then  dropped  ungraciously  on  the  edge  of  a 
camp-stool  near  the  door.  The  major  looked 
at  him. 

"  I  may  have  to  remind  you  that  /  run 
this  camp,  and  the  boys  hereabouts  do  pretty 
much  as  /  say.  What 's  your  name  ?  " 


148  THE   SHERIFF   OF  SISKYOU. 

"Tom." 

"Tom?  Well,  look  here,  Tom!  D— n 
it  all !  Can't  you  see  that  when  a  man  is 
stuck  here  alone,  as  I  am,  he  wants  to  know 
what 's  going  on  outside,  and  hear  a  little 
fresh  talk?" 

The  singular  weakness  of  this  blended 
command  and  appeal  apparently  struck  the 
fugitive  curiously.  He  fixed  his  lowering 
eyes  on  the  major  as  if  in  gloomy  doubt  if 
he  were  really  the  reckless  desperado  he 
had  been  represented.  That  this  man  — 
twice  an  assassin  and  the  ruler  of  outlaws 
as  reckless  as  himself  —  should  approach 
him  in  this  half-confidential  way  evidently 
puzzled  him. 

"  Wot  you  wanter  know  ? "  he  asked 
gruffly. 

"  Well,  what 's  my  party  saying  or  doing 
about  me?"  said  the  major  impatiently. 
"  What 's  the  '  Express '  saying  about  me  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  they  're  throwing  off  on  you  all 
round ;  they  allow  you  never  represented 
the  party,  but  worked  for  yourself,"  said  the 
man  shortly. 

Here  the  major  lashed  out.  A  set  of 
traitors  and  hirelings  !  He  had  bought  and 
paid  for  them  all !  He  had  sunk  two  thou- 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  SISKYOU.  149 

sand  dollars  in  the  "Express"  and  saved 
the  editor  from  being  horsewhipped  and 
jailed  for  libel!  Half  the  cursed  bonds 
that  they  were  making  such  a  blanked  fuss 
about  were  handled  by  these  hypocrites  — 
blank  them !  They  were  a  low-lived  crew  of 
thieves  and  deserters !  It  is  presumed  that 
the  major  had  forgotten  himself  in  this  in 
felicitous  selection  of  epithets,  but  the  stran 
ger's  face  only  relaxed  into  a  grim  smile. 
More  than  that,  the  major  had  apparently 
forgotten  his  desire  to  hear  his  guest  talk, 
for  he  himself  at  once  launched  into  an  elabo 
rate  exposition  of  his  own  affairs  and  a  spe 
cious  and  equally  elaborate  defense  and  justi 
fication  of  himself  and  denunciation  of  his 
accusers.  For  nearly  half  an  hour  he  re 
viewed  step  by  step  and  detail  by  detail  the 
charges  against  him — with  plausible  expla 
nation  and  sophistical  argument,  but  always 
with  a  singular  prolixity  and  reiteration 
that  spoke  of  incessant  self -consciousness  and 
self-abstraction.  Of  that  dashing  self-suffi 
ciency  which  had  dazzled  his  friends  and 
awed  his  enemies  there  was  no  trace !  At 
last,  even  the  set  smile  of  the  degraded  re 
cipient  of  these  confidences  darkened  with  a 
dull,  bewildered  disgust.  Then,  to  his  relief, 


150  THE  SHERIFF  OF  SISKYOU. 

a  step  was  heard  without.  The  major's 
manner  instantly  changed. 

"Well?"  he  demanded  impatiently,  as 
Dawson  entered. 

"  I  came  to  know  what  you  want  done  with 
him"  said  Dawson,  indicating  the  fugitive 
with  a  contemptuous  finger. 

"  Take  him  to  your  cabin  !  " 

"My  cabin!  him?"  ejaculated  Dawson, 
turning  sharply  on  his  chief. 

The  major's  light  eyes  contracted  and  his 
thin  lips  became  a  straight  line.  "  I  don't 
think  you  understand  me,  Dawson,  and  an 
other  time  you  'd  better  wait  until  I  'm  done. 
I  want  you  to  take  him  to  your  cabin  —  and 
then  clear  out  of  it  yourself.  You  under 
stand  ?  I  want  him  near  me  and  alone  I  " 


nr. 

DAWSON  was  not  astonished  the  next 
morning  to  see  Major  Overstone  and  the 
half-breed  walking  together  down  the  gully 
road,  for  he  had  already  come  to  the  conclu 
sion  that  the  major  was  planning  some  ex 
traordinary  reprisals  against  the  invaders, 
that  would  ensure  the  perpetual  security  of 
the  camp.  That  he  should  use  so  insignifi 
cant  and  unimportant  a  tool  now  appeared 
to  him  to  be  quite  natural,  particularly  as 
the  service  was  probably  one  in  which  the 
man  would  be  sacrificed.  "  The  major," 
he  suggested  to  his  companions,  "  ain't  go 
ing  to  risk  a  white  man's  skin,  when  he  can 
get  an  Injun's  hide  handy." 

The  reluctant  hesitating  step  of  the  half- 
breed  as  they  walked  along  seemed  to  give 
some  color  to  this  hypothesis.  He  listened 
sullenly  to  the  major  as  he  pointed  out  the 
strategic  position  of  the  Bar.  "  That  wagon 
road  is  the  only  approach  to  Wynyard's,  and 
a  dozen  men  along  the  rocks  could  hold  it 


152  THE   SHERIFF  OF  8ISKYOU. 

against  a  hundred.  The  trail  that  you  came 
by,  over  the  ridge,  drops  straight  into  this 
gully,  and  you  saw  what  that  would  mean  to 
any  blanked  fools  who  might  try  it.  Of 
course  we  could  be  shelled  from  that  ridge 
if  the  sheriff  had  a  howitzer,  or  the  men 
who  knew  how  to  work  one,  but  even  then 
we  could  occupy  the  ridge  before  them." 
He  paused  a  moment  and  then  added  :  "  1 
used  to  be  in  the  army,  Tom  ;  I  saw  service 
in  Mexico  before  that  cub  you  got  away 
from  had  his  first  trousers.  I  was  brought 
up  as  a  gentleman  —  blank  it  all  —  and  here 
I  am !  " 

The  man  slouched  on  by  his  side,  casting 
his  surly,  furtive  glances  from  left  to  right, 
as  if  seeking  to  escape  from  these  confi 
dences.  Nevertheless,  the  major  kept  on 
through  the  gully,  until  reaching  the  wagon 
road  they  crossed  it,  and  began  to  ascend 
the  opposite  slope,  half  hidden  by  the  under 
brush  and  larches.  Here  the  major  paused 
again  and  faced  about.  The  cabins  of  the 
settlement  were  already  behind  the  bluff; 
the  little  stream  which  indicated  the  "  bar  " 
—  on  which  some  perfunctory  mining  was 
still  continued  —  now  and  then  rang  out 
quite  clearly  at  their  feet,  although  the  bar 


THE   SHERIFF   OF   SISKYOU.  153 

itself  had  disappeared.  The  sounds  of  occu 
pation  and  labor  had  at  last  died  away  in 
the  distance.  They  were  quite  alone.  The 
major  sat  down  on  a  boulder,  and  pointed  to 
another.  The  man,  however,  remained  sul 
lenly  standing  where  he  was,  as  if  to  accent 
as  strongly  as  possible  the  enforced  compan 
ionship.  Either  the  major  was  too  self- 
absorbed  to  notice  it,  or  accepted  it  as  a  sat 
isfactory  characteristic  of  the  half-breed's 
race.  He  continued  confidently :  — 

"  Now  look  here,  Tom.  I  want  to  leave 
this  cursed  hole,  and  get  clear  out  of  the 
State!  Anywhere;  over  the  Oregon  line 
into  British  Columbia,  or  to  the  coast,  where 
I  can  get  a  coasting  vessel  down  to  Mexico. 
It  will  cost  money,  but  I  've  got  it.  It  will 
cost  a  lot  of  risks,  but  I'll  take  them.  I 
want  somebody  to  help  me,  some  one  to  share 
risks  with  me,  and  some  one  to  share  my  luck 
if  I  succeed.  Help  to  put  me  on  the  other 
side  of  the  border  line,  by  sea  or  land,  and 
I  '11  give  you  a  thousand  dollars  down  before 
we  start  and  a  thousand  dollars  when  I'm 
safe." 

The  half-breed  had  changed  his  slouching 
attitude.  It  seemed  more  indolent  on  ac 
count  of  the  loosely  hanging  strap  that  had 


154  THE  SHERIFF  OF  SISKYOU. 

once  held  his  haversack,  which  was  still  worn 
in  a  slovenly  fashion  over  his  shoulder  as  a 
kind  of  lazy  sling  for  his  shiftless  hand. 

"  Well,  Tom,  is  it  a  go  ?  You  can  trust 
me,  for  you  '11  have  the  thousand  in  your 
pocket  before  you  start.  I  can  trust  you, 
for  I  '11  kill  you  quicker  than  lightning  if 
you  say  a  word  of  this  to  any  one  before  I  go, 
or  play  a  single  trick  on  me  afterwards." 

Suddenly  the  two  men  were  rolling  over  and 
over  in  the  underbrush.  The  half-breed  had 
thrown  himself  upon  the  major,  bearing  him 
down  to  the  ground.  The  haversack  strap 
for  an  instant  whirled  like  the  loop  of  a 
lasso  in  the  air,  and  descended  over  the 
major's  shoulders,  pinioning  his  arms  to  his 
side.  Then  the  half-breed,  tearing  open  his 
ragged  blouse,  stripped  off  his  waist-belt, 
and  as  dexterously  slipped  it  over  the  ankles 
of  the  struggling  man. 

It  was  all  over  in  a  moment.  Neither 
had  spoken  a  word.  Only  their  rapid  pant 
ing  broke  the  profound  silence.  Each  pro 
bably  knew  that  no  outcry  would  be  over 
heard. 

For  the  first  time  the  half-breed  sat  down. 
But  there  was  no  trace  of  triumph  or  sat 
isfaction  in  his  face,  which  wore  the  same 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  SISKTOU.  155 

lowering  look  of  disgust,  as  he  gazed  upon 
the  prostrate  man. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you  first,"  he  said,  slowly 
wiping  his  face,  "that  I  didn't  kalkilate 
upon  doin'  this  in  this  yer  kind  o'  way.  I 
expected  more  of  a  stan'  up  fight  from  you 

—  more  risk  in  gettin'  you  out  o'  that  hole  — 
and  a  different  kind  of  a  man  to  tackle.     I 
never  expected   you  to  play  into  my  hand 
like  this  —  and  it  goes  against  me  to  hev  to 
take  advantage  of  it." 

"Who  are  you?  said  the  major,  pant- 
ingly. 

"  I  'm  the  new  sheriff  of  Siskyou !  " 

He  drew  from  beneath  his  begrimed  shirt 
a  paper  wrapping,  from  which  he  gingerly 
extracted  with  the  ends  of  his  dirty  fingers 
a  clean,  legal-looking  folded  paper. 

"  That 's  my  warrant !  I  've  kept  it  fresh 
for  you.  I  reckon  you  don't  care  to  read  it 

—  you  've  seen  it  afore.     It 's  just  the  same 
as  t'  other  sheriff  had  —  what  you  shot." 

"  Then  this  was  a  plant  of  yours,  and  that 
whelp's  troopers  ?  "  said  the  major. 

"Neither  him  nor  the  sojers  knows  any 
more  about  it  than  you,"  returned  the  sher 
iff  slowly.  "I  enlisted  as  Injin  guide  or 
scout  ten  days  ago.  I  deserted  just  as  reg'- 


156  THE   SHERIFF   OF  SISKYOU. 

lar  and  nat'ral  like  when  we  passed  that 
ridge  yesterday.  I  could  be  took  to-morrow 
by  the  sojers  if  they  caught  sight  o'  me  and 
court-martialed  —  it's  as  reg'lar  as  that/ 
But  I  timed  to  have  my  posse,  under  a  dep 
uty,  draw  you  off  by  an  attack  just  as  the 
escort  reached  the  ridge.  And  here  I  am." 

"  And  you  're  no  half-breed  ?  " 

"There's  nothin'  Injin  about  me  that 
water  won't  wash  off.  I  kalkilated  you 
wouldn't  suspect  anything  so  insignificant 
as  an  Injin,  when  I  fixed  myself  up.  You 
saw  Dawson  didn't  hanker  after  me  much. 
But  I  didn't  reckon  on  your  tumbling  to 
me  so  quick.  That 's  what  gets  me  !  You 
must  hev  been  pretty  low  down  for  kempany 
when  you  took  a  man  like  me  inter  your  con 
fidence.  I  don't  see  it  yet." 

He  looked  inquiringly  at  his  captive  — 
with  the  same  wondering  surliness.  Nor 
could  he  understand  another  thing  which 
was  evident.  After  the  first  shock  of  resis 
tance  the  major  had  exhibited  none  of  the 
indignation  of  a  betrayed  man,  but  actually 
seemed  to  accept  the  situation  with  a  calm 
ness  that  his  captor  lacked.  His  voice  was 
quite  unemotional  as  he  said  :  — 

"  And  how  are  you  going  to  get  me  away 
from  here  ?  " 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  SISKYOU.  157 

"  That 's  my  look  out,  and  need  n't  trouble 
you,  major ;  but,  seein'  as  how  confidential 
you  've  been  to  me,  I  don't  mind  tellin'  you. 
Last  night  that  posse  of  mine  that  you 
'  skunked,'  you  know,  halted  at  the  cross 
roads  till  them  sojers  went  by.  They  has 
only  to  see  them  to  know  that  /  had  got 
away.  They  '11  hang  round  the  cross  roads 
till  they  see  my  signal  on  top  of  the  ridge, 
and  then  they  '11  make  another  show  against 
that  pass.  Your  men  will  have  their  hands 
full,  I  reckon,  without  huntin'  for  you,  or 
noticin'  the  three  men  o'  mine  that  will  come 
along  this  ridge  where  the  sojers  come  yester 
day  —  to  help  me  get  you  down  in  the  same 
way.  You  see,  major,  your  little  trap  in  that 
gully  ain't  in  this  fight — we  \e  the  other  side 
of  it.  I  ain't  much  of  a  sojer,  but  I  reckon 
I  Ve  got  you  there !  And  it 's  all  owing  to 
you.  I  ain't,"  he  added  gloomily,  "  takin' 
much  pride  in  it  myself.  " 

"  I  should  n't  think  you  would,"  said  the 
major,  "and  look  here!  I'll  double  that 
offer  I  made  you  just  now.  Set  me  down 
just  as  I  am  on  the  deck  of  some  coasting 
vessel,  and  I  '11  pay  you  four  thousand  dol 
lars.  You  may  have  all  the  glory  of  having 
captured  me,  here,  and  of  making  your  word 


158  THE  SHERIFF  OF  SISKYOU. 

good  before  your  posse.  But  you  can  ar 
range  afterwards  on  the  way  to  let  me  give 
you  the  slip  somewhere  near  Sacramento." 

The  sheriff's  face  actually  brightened., 
"Thanks  for  that,  major.  I  was  gettin'  a 
little  sick  of  my  share  in  this  job,  but,  by 
God,  you  've  put  some  sand  in  me.  Well, 
then !  there  ain't  gold  enough  in  all  Cali- 
forny  to  make  me  let  you  go.  You  hear 
me  ;  so  drop  that.  I  've  took  you,  and  took 
ye  '11  remain  until  I  land  you  in  Sacramento 
jail.  I  don't  want  to  kill  you,  though  your 
life 's  forfeit  a  dozen  times  over,  and  I  reckon 
you  don't  care  for  it  either  way,  but  if  you 
try  any  tricks  on  me  I  may  have  to  maim  ye 
to  make  you  come  along  comf 'able  and  easy. 
I  ain't  hankerin'  arter  that  either,  but  come 
you  shall ! " 

"  Give  your  signal  and  have  an  end  of 
this,"  said  the  major  curtly. 

The  sheriff  looked  at  him  again  curiously. 
"I  never  had  my  hands  in  another  man's 
pockets  before,  major,  but  I  reckon  I'll 
have  to  take  your  derringers  from  yours." 
He  slipped  his  hand  into  the  major's  waisk 
coat  and  secured  the  weapons.  "  I  '11  have 
to  trouble  you  for  your  sash,  too,"  he  said, 
unwinding  the  knitted  silken  girdle  from 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  SISKYOU.  159 

the  captive's  waist.  "You  won't  want  it, 
for  you  ain't  walking,  and  it  '11  come  in 
handy  to  me  just  now." 

He  bent  over,  and,  passing  it  across  the 
major's  breast  with  more  gentleness  and 
solicitude  than  he  had  yet  shown,  secured 
him  in  an  easy  sitting  posture  against  the 
tree.  Then,  after  carefully  trying  the  knots 
and  straps  that  held  his  prisoner,  he  turned 
and  lightly  bounded  up  the  hill. 

He  was  absent  scarcely  ten  minutes,  yet 
when  he  returned  the  major's  eyes  were 
half  closed.  But  not  his  lips.  "If  you 
expect  to  hold  me  until  your  posse  comes 
you  had  better  take  me  to  some  less  exposed 
position,"  he  said  dryly.  "  There  's  a  man 
just  crossed  the  gully,  coming  into  the  brush 
below  in  the  wood." 

"  None  of  your  tricks,  major !  " 

"  Look  for  yourself." 

The  sheriff  glanced  quickly  below  him. 
A  man  with  an  axe  on  his  shoulder  could 
be  seen  plainly  making  his  way  through  the 
underbrush  not  a  hundred  yards  away.  The 
sheriff  instantly  clapped  his  hand  upon  his 
captive's  mouth,  but  at  a  look  from  his  eyes 
took  it  away  again. 

"  I  see,"  he  said  grimly,  "  you  don't  want 


160  THE   SHERIFF   OF  SJSKTOU. 

to  lure  that  man  within  reach  of  my  revol 
ver  by  calling  to  him." 

"I  could  have  called  him  while  you 
were  away,"  returned  the  major  quietly. 

The  sheriff  with  a  darkened  face  loosened 
the  sash  that  bound  his  prisoner  to  the  tree, 
and  then,  lifting  him  in  his  arms,  began  to 
ascend  the  hill  cautiously,  dipping  into  the 
heavier  shadows.  But  the  ascent  was  diffi 
cult,  the  load  a  heavy  one,  and  the  sheriff 
was  agile  rather  than  muscular.  After  a 
few  minutes'  climbing  he  was  forced  to 
pause  and  rest  his  burden  at  the  foot  of  a 
tree.  But  the  valley  and  the  man  in  the 
underbrush  were  no  longer  in  view. 

"  Come,"  said  the  major  quietly,  "  xmstrap 
my  ankles  and  I  '11  walk  up.  We  '11  never 
get  there  at  this  rate." 

The  sheriff  paused,  wiped  his  grimy  face 
with  his  grimier  blouse,  and  stood  looking 
at  his  prisoner.  Then  he  said  slowly  :  — 

"  Look  yer !  Wot 's  your  little  game  ? 
Blessed  if  I  kin  follow  suit." 

For  the  first  time  the  major  burst  into  a 
rage.  "  Blast  it  all !  Don't  you  see  that  if 
I  'm  discovered  here,  in  this  way,  there 's 
not  a  man  on  the  Bar  who  would  believe 
that  I  walked  into  your  trap,  not  a  man,  by 


THE   SHERIFF  OF  SISKYOU.  161 

God,  who  would  n't  think  it  was  a  trick  of 
yours  and  mine  together  ?  " 

'•  Or,"  interrupted  the  sheriff  slowly,  fix 
ing  his  eyes  on  his  prisoner,  "not  a  man 
who  would  ever  trust  Major  Overstone  for 
a  leader  again?" 

"Perhaps,"  said  the  major,  unmovedly 
again,  "  I  don't  think  either  of  us  would 
ever  get  a  chance  of  being  trusted  again  by 
any  one." 

The  sheriff  still  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  his 
prisoner,  his  gloomy  face  growing  darker 
under  its  grime.  "  That  ain't  the  reason, 
major.  Life  and  death  don't  mean  much 
more  to  you  than  they  do  to  me  in  this  yer 
game.  /  know  that  you  'd  kill  me  quicker 
nor  lightning  if  you  got  the  chance;  you 
know  that  I  'm  takin'  you  to  the  gallows." 

"  The  reason  is  that  I  want  to  leave  Wyn- 
yard's  Bar,"  said  the  major  coolly;  "and 
even  this  way  out  of  it  will  suit  me." 

The  sheriff  took  his  revolver  from  his 
pocket  and  deliberately  cocked  it.  Then, 
leaning  down,  he  unbuckled  the  strap  from 
the  major's  ankles.  A  wild  hope  that  his 
incomprehensible  captive  might  seize  that 
moment  to  develop  his  real  intent  —  that 
he  might  fly,  fight,  or  in  some  way  act  up 


162  THE  SHERIFF  OF  SISKYOU. 

to  his  reckless  reputation  —  sustained  him 
for  a  moment,  but  in  the  next  proved  futile. 
The  major  only  said,  "Thank  you,  Tom," 
and  stretched  his  cramped  legs. 

"  Get  up  and  go  on,"  said  the  sheriff 
roughly. 

The  major  began  to  slowly  ascend  the 
hill,  the  sheriff  close  on  his  heels,  alert, 
tingling,  and  watchful  of  every  movement. 
For  a  few  moments  this  strain  upon  his  fac 
ulties  seemed  to  invigorate  him,  and  his 
gloom  relaxed,  but  presently  it  became  too 
evident  that  the  prisoner's  pinioned  arms 
made  it  impossible  for  him  to  balance  or 
help  himself  on  that  steep  trail,  and  once  or 
twice  he  stumbled  and  reeled  dangerously 
to  one  side.  With  an  oath  the  sheriff 
caught  him,  and  tore  from  his  arms  the 
only  remaining  bonds  that  fettered  him. 
"  There !  "  he  said  savagely ;  "  go  on ;  we  're 
equal!" 

Without  replying,  the  major  continued 
his  ascent ;  it  became  steeper  as  they  neared 
the  crest,  and  at  last  they  were  both  obliged 
to  drag  themselves  up  by  clutching  the 
vines  and  underbrush.  Suddenly  the  major 
stopped  with  a  listening  gesture.  A  strange 
roaring  —  as  of  wind  or  water — was  dis 
tinctly  audible. 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  SI»KTOU.  163 

"  How  did  you  signal  ?  "  asked  the  major 
abruptly. 

"Made  a  smoke,"  said  the  sheriff  as 
abruptly. 

"  I  thought  so  —  well !  you  've  set  the 
woods  on  fire." 

They  both  plunged  upwards  again,  now 
quite  abreast,  vying  with  each  other  to 
reach  the  summit  as  if  with  the  one  thought 
only.  Already  the  sting  and  smart  of  acrid 
fumes  were  in  their  eyes  and  nostrils  ;  when 
they  at  last  stood  on  level  ground  again,  it 
was  hidden  by  a  thin  film  of  grayish  blue 
haze  that  seemed  to  be  creeping  along  it. 
But  above  was  the  clear  sky,  seen  through 
the  interlacing  boughs,  and  to  their  surprise 
—  they  who  had  just  come  from  the  breath 
less,  stagnant  hillside  —  a  fierce  wind  was 
blowing !  But  the  roaring  was  louder  than 
before. 

"  Unless  your  three  men  are  already  here, 
your  game  is  up,"  said  the  major  calmly. 
"  The  wind  blows  dead  along  the  ridge  where 
they  should  come,  and  they  can't  get  through 
the  smoke  and  fire." 

It  was  indeed  true !  In  the  scarce  twenty 
minutes  that  had  elapsed  since  the  sheriff's 
return  the  dry  and  brittle  underbrush  for 


164  THE  SHERIFF  OF  SISKYOU. 

half  a  mile  on  either  side  had  been  converted 
into  a  sheet  of  flame,  which  at  times  rose  to 
a  furnace  blast  through  the  tall  chimney-like 
conductors  of  tree  shafts,  from  whose  shriv 
eled  sides  bark  was  crackling,  and  lighted 
dead  limbs  falling  in  all  directions.  The 
whole  valley,  the  gully,  the  Bar,  the  very 
hillside  they  had  just  left,  were  blotted  out 
by  a  creeping,  stifling  smoke-fog  that  scarcely 
rose  breast  high,  but  was  beaten  down  or 
cut  off  cleanly  by  the  violent  wind  that  swept 
the  higher  level  of  the  forest.  At  times  this 
gale  became  a  sirocco  in  temperature,  con 
centrating  its  heat  in  withering  blasts  which 
they  could  not  face,  or  focusing  its  inten 
sity  upon  some  mass  of  foliage  that  seemed 
to  shrink  at  its  touch  and  open  a  scathed 
and  quivering  aisle  to  its  approach.  The 
enormous  skeleton  of  a  dead  and  rotten  red 
wood,  not  a  hundred  yards  to  their  right, 
broke  suddenly  like  a  gigantic  firework  into 
sparks  and  flame. 

The  sheriff  had  grasped  the  full  meaning 
of  their  situation.  In  spite  of  his  first  error 
—  the  very  carelessness  of  familiarity — his 
knowledge  of  woodcraft  was  greater  than  his 
companion's,  and  he  saw  their  danger. 
"  Come,"  he  said  quickly,  "  we  must  make 
for  an  opening  or  we  shall  be  caught." 


THE   SHERIFF   OF  SISKYOU,  165 

The  major  smiled  in  misapprehension. 

"  Who  could  catch  us  here  ?  " 

The  sheriff  pointed  to  the  blazing  tree. 

"  That"  he  said.  "  In  five  minutes  it 
will  have  a  posse  that  will  wipe  us  both  out." 

He  caught  the  major  by  the  arm  and 
rushed  him  into  the  smoke,  apparently  in 
the  direction  of  the  greatest  mass  of  flame. 
The  heat  was  suffocating,  but  it  struck  the 
major  that  the  more  they  approached  the 
actual  scene  of  conflagration  the  heat  and 
smoke  became  less,  until  he  saw  that  the 
fire  was  retreating  before  them  and  the  fol 
lowing  wind.  In  a  few  moments  their 
haven  of  safety  —  the  expanse  already  burnt 
over  —  came  in  sight.  Here  and  there, 
seen  dimly  through  the  drifting  smoke,  the 
scattered  embers  that  still  strewed  the  forest 
floor  glowed  in  weird  nebulous  spots  like 
will-o'-the-wisps.  For  an  instant  the  major 
hesitated;  the  sheriff  cast  a  significant 
glance  behind  them. 

"  Go  on ;  it 's  our  only  chance,"  he  said 
imperatively. 

They  darted  on,  skimming  the  blackened 
or  smouldering  surface,  which  at  times  struck 
out  sparks  and  flame  from  their  heavier  foot 
prints  as  they  passed.  Their  boots  crackled 


166  THE  SHERIFF  OF  SISKYOU. 

and  scorched  beneath  them ;  their  shreds  of 
lothing  were  on  fire ;  their  breathing  became 
>nore  difficult,  until,  providentially,  they  fell 
upon  an  abrupt,  fissure-like  depression  of 
the  soil,  which  the  fire  had  leaped,  and  into 
which  they  blindly  plunged  and  rolled  to 
gether.  A  moment  of  relief  and  coolness 
followed,  as  they  crept  along  the  fissure, 
filled  with  damp  and  rotting  leaves. 

"  Why  not  stay  here  ?  "  said  the  exhausted 
prisoner. 

"And  be  roasted  like  sweet  potatoes 
when  these  trees  catch,"  returned  the  sheriff 
grimly.  "  No."  Even  as  he  spoke,  a  drop 
ping  rain  of  fire  spattered  through  the 
leaves  from  a  splintered  redwood,  before 
overlooked,  that  was  now  blazing  fiercely 
in  the  upper  wind.  A  vague  and  indefin 
able  terror  was  in  the  air.  The  conflagra 
tion  no  longer  seemed  to  obey  any  rule  of 
direction.  The  incendiary  torch  had  passed 
invisibly  everywhere.  They  scrambled  out 
of  the  hollow,  and  again  dashed  desperately 
forward. 

Beaten,  bruised,  blackened,  and  smoke- 
grimed  —  looking  less  human  than  the  ani 
mals  who  had  long  since  deserted  the  crest 
• —  they  at  last  limped  into  a  "  wind  open' 


THE   SHERIFF  OF  SISKYOU.  167 

ing  "  in  the  woods  that  the  fire  had  skirted. 
The  major  sank  exhaustedly  to  the  ground ; 
the  sheriff  threw  himself  beside  him.  Their 
strange  relations  to  each  other  seemed  to 
have  been  forgotten  ;  they  looked  and  acted 
as  if  they  no  longer  thought  of  anything  be 
yond  the  present.  And  when  the  sheriff 
finally  arose  and,  disappearing  for  several 
minutes,  brought  his  hat  full  of  water  for 
his  prisoner  from  a  distant  spring  that  they 
had  passed  in  their  flight,  he  found  him 
where  he  had  left  him —  unchanged  and 
unmoved. 

He  took  the  water  gratefully,  and  after 
a  pause  fixed  his  eyes  earnestly  upon  his 
captor.  "  I  want  you  to  do  a  favor  to  me," 
he  said  slowly.  "  I  'm  not  going  to  offer 
you  a  bribe  to  do  it  either,  nor  ask  you  any 
thing  that  is  n't  in  a  line  with  your  duty.  I 
think  I  understand  you  now,  if  I  did  n't  be 
fore.  Do  you  know  Briggs's  restaurant  in 
Sacramento  ?  " 

The  sheriff  nodded. 

"  Well !  over  the  restaurant  are  my  pri 
vate  rooms,  the  finest  in  Sacramento.  No 
body  knows  it  but  Briggs,  and  he  has  never 
told.  They  've  been  locked  ever  since  I 
left;  I've  got  the  key  still  in  my  pocket. 


168  THE  SHERIFF  OF  SISKYOU. 

Now  when  we  get  to  Sacramento,  instead  of 
taking  me  straight  to  jail,  I  want  you  to 
hold  me  there  as  your  prisoner  for  a  day 
and  a  night.  I  don't  want  to  get  away ;  you 
can  take  what  precautions  you  like  —  sur 
round  the  house  with  policemen,  and  sleep 
yourself  in  the  ante-room.  I  don't  want  to 
destroy  any  papers  or  evidence ;  you  can  go 
through  the  rooms  and  examine  everything 
before  and  after ;  I  only  want  to  stay  there 
a  day  and  a  night ;  I  want  to  be  in  my  old 
rooms,  have  my  meals  from  the  restaurant 
as  I  used  to,  and  sleep  in  my  own  bed  once 
more.  I  want  to  live  for  one  day  like  a  gen 
tleman,  as  I  used  to  live  before  I  came  here. 
That 's  all !  It  is  n't  much,  Tom.  You  can 
do  it  and  say  you  require  to  do  it  to  get  evi 
dence  against  me,  or  that  you  want  to  search 
the  rooms." 

The  expression  of  wonder  which  had  come 
into  the  sheriff's  face  at  the  beginning  of 
this  speech  deepened  into  his  old  look  of 
surly  dissatisfaction.  "  And  that 's  all  ye 
want  ?  "  he  said  gloomily.  "  Ye  don't  want 
no  friends  —  no  lawyer?  For  I  tell  you, 
straight  out,  major,  there  ain't  no  hope  for 
ye,  when  the  law  once  gets  hold  of  ye  in 
Sacramento." 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  SISKYOU.  169 

"  That 's  all.     Will  you  do  it  ?  " 

The  sheriff's  face  grew  still  darker.  Af 
ter  a  pause  he  said :  "  I  don't  say  '  no,'  and 
I  don't  say  'yes.'  But,"  he  added  grimly, 
"  it  strikes  me  we  'd  better  wait  till  we  get 
clear  o'  these  woods  afore  you  think  o'  your 
Sacramento  lodgings." 

The  major  did  not  reply.  The  day  had 
worn  on,  but  the  fire,  now  completely  encir 
cling  them,  opposed  any  passage  in  or  out  of 
that  fateful  barrier.  The  smoke  of  the  burn 
ing  underbrush  hung  low  around  them  in  a 
bank  equally  impenetrable  to  vision.  They 
were  as  alone  as  shipwrecked  sailors  on  an 
island,  girded  by  a  horizon  of  clouds. 

"  I  'm  going  to  try  to  sleep,"  said  the  ma 
jor;  "if  your  men  come  you  can  waken 
me." 

"  And  if  your  men  come  ?  "  said  the  sher 
iff  dryly. 

"  Shoot  me." 

He  lay  down,  closed  his  eyes,  and  to  the 
sheriff's  astonishment  presently  fell  asleep. 
The  sheriff,  with  his  chin  in  his  grimy 
hands,  sat  and  watched  him  as  the  day 
slowly  darkened  around  them  and  the  dis 
tant  fires  came  out  in  more  lurid  intensity. 
The  face  of  the  captive  and  outlawed  mur- 


170  THE  SHERIFF  OF  SISKYOU. 

derer  was  singularly  peaceful ;  that  of  the 
captor  and  man  of  duty  was  haggard,  wild, 
and  perplexed. 

But  even  this  changed  soon.  The  sleep 
ing  man  stirred  restlessly  and  uneasily  ;  his 
face  began  to  work,  his  lips  to  move., 
"  Tom,"  he  gasped  suddenly,  "  Tom  !  " 

The  sheriff  bent  over  him  eagerly.  The 
sleeping  man's  eyes  were  still  closed ;  beads 
of  sweat  stood  upon  his  forehead.  He  was 
dreaming. 

"Tom,"  he  whispered,  "take  me  out  of 
this  place  —  take  me  out  from  these  dogs 
and  pimps  and  beggars  !  Listen,  Tom  !  — - 
they  're  Sydney  ducks,  ticket-of -leave  men, 
short  card  sharps,  and  sneak  thieves  !  There 
is  n't  a  gentleman  among  'em !  There  isn't 
one  I  don't  loathe  and  hate  —  and  would 
grind  under  my  heel,  elsewhere.  I  'm  a  gen 
tleman,  Tom  —  yes,  by  God  —  an  officer  and 
a  gentleman !  I  've  served  my  country  in  the 
9th  Cavalry.  That  cub  of  West  Point 
knows  it  and  despises  me,  seeing  me  here  in 
such  company.  That  sergeant  knows  it  —  I 
recommended  him  for  his  first  stripes  for  all 
he  taunts  me,  —  d — n  him !  " 

"  Come,  wake  up ! "  said  the  sheriff 
harshly. 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  SISKYOU.  171 

The  prisoner  did  not  heed  him ;  the  sher 
iff  shook  him  roughly,  so  roughly  that  the 
major's  waistcoat  and  shirt  dragged  open, 
disclosing  his  fine  silk  undershirt,  delicately 
worked  and  embroidered  with  golden  thread. 
At  the  sight  of  this  abased  and  faded  mag 
nificence  the  sheriff's  hand  was  stayed ;  his 
eye  wandered  over  the  sleeping  form  before 
him.  Yes,  the  hair  was  dyed  too ;  near  the 
roots  it  was  quite  white  and  grizzled ;  the 
pomatum  was  coming  off  the  pointed  mous 
tache  and  imperial ;  the  face  in  the  light  was 
very  haggard  ;  the  lines  from  the  angles  of 
the  nostril  and  mouth  were  like  deep,  half- 
healed  gashes.  The  major  was,  without 
doubt,  prematurely  worn  and  played  out. 

The  sheriff's  persistent  eyes,  however, 
seemed  to  effect  what  his  ruder  hand  could 
not.  The  sleeping  man  stirred,  awoke  to 
full  consciousness,  and  sat  up. 

"  Are  they  here  ?  I  'm  ready,"  he  said 
calmly. 

"  No,"  said  the  sheriff  deliberately ;  "  I 
only  woke  ye  to  say  that  I  've  been  thinkin' 
over  what  ye  asked  me,  and  if  we  get  to 
Sacramento  all  right,  why,  I  '11  do  it  and  give 
ye  that  day  and  night  at  your  old  lodgings." 

"  Thank  you." 


172  TEE  SHERIFF  OF  SISKYOU. 

The  major  reached  out  his  hand ;  the 
sheriff  hesitated,  and  then  extended  his  own. 
The  hands  of  the  two  men  clasped  for  the 
first,  and  it  would  seem,  the  last  time. 

For  the  "  cub  of  West  Point "  was,  like 
most  cubs,  irritable  when  thwarted.  And 
having  been  balked  of  his  prey,  the  desert 
er,  and  possibly  chaffed  by  his  comrades  for 
his  profitless  invasion  of  Wynyard's  Bar,  he 
had  persuaded  his  commanding  officer  to 
give  him  permission  to  effect  a  recapture. 
Thus  it  came  about  that  at  dawn,  filing 
along  the  ridge,  on  the  outskirts  of  the  fire, 
his  heart  was  gladdened  by  the  sight  of  the 
half-breed  —  with  his  hanging  haversack  belt 
and  tattered  army  tunic  —  evidently  still  a 
fugitive,  not  a  hundred  yards  away  on  the 
other  side  of  the  belt  of  fire,  running  down 
the  hill  with  another  ragged  figure  at  his 
side.  The  command  to  "  halt  "  was  enforced 
by  a  single  rifle  shot  over  the  fugitives' 
heads  —  but  they  still  kept  on  their  flight. 
Then  the  boy-officer  snatched  a  carbine  from 
one  of  his  men,  a  volley  rang  out  from  the 
little  troop  —  the  shots  of  the  privates  mer 
cifully  high,  those  of  the  officer  and  sergeant 
leveled  with  wounded  pride  and  full  of  de 
liberate  purpose.  The  half-breed  fell ;  so 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  SISKYOU.  173 

did  his  companion,  and,  rolling  over  together, 
both  lay  still. 

But  between  the  hunters  and  their  fallen 
quarry  reared  a  cheval  de  frise  of  flame  and 
fallen  timber  impossible  to  cross.  The 
young  officer  hesitated,  shrugged  his  shoul 
ders,  wheeled  his  men  about,  and  left  the 
fire  to  correct  any  irregularity  in  his  action. 

It  did  not,  however,  change  contempora 
neous  history,  for  a  week  later,  when  Wyn- 
yard's  Bar  discovered  Major  Overstone 
lying  beside  the  man  now  recognized  by 
them  as  the  disguised  sheriff  of  Siskyou, 
they  rejoiced  at  this  unfailing  evidence  of 
their  lost  leader's  unequaled  prowess.  That 
he  had  again  killed  a  sheriff  and  fought  a 
whole  posse,  yielding  only  with  his  life,  was 
never  once  doubted,  and  kept  his  memory 
green  in  Sierran  chronicles  long  after  Wyn- 
yard's  Bar  had  itself  become  a  memory. 


A  ROSE  OP  GLENBOGIE. 


THE  American  consul  at  St.  Kentigern 
stepped  gloomily  from  the  train  at  Whistle- 
crankie  station.  For  the  last  twenty  min 
utes  his  spirits  had  been  slowly  sinking  be 
fore  the  drifting  procession  past  the  carriage 
windows  of  dull  gray  and  brown  hills  — 
mammiform  in  shape,  but  so  cold  and  sterile 
in  expression  that  the  swathes  of  yellow 
mist  which  lay  in  their  hollows,  like  soiled 
guipure,  seemed  a  gratuitous  affectation  of 
modesty.  And  when  the  train  moved  away, 
mingling  its  escaping  steam  with  the  slower 
mists  of  the  mountain,  he  found  himself 
alone  on  the  platform  —  the  only  passenger 
and  apparently  the  sole  occupant  of  the  sta 
tion.  He  was  gazing  disconsolately  at  his 
trunk,  which  had  taken  upon  itself  a  human 
loneliness  in  the  emptiness  of  the  place, 
when  a  railway  porter  stepped  out  of  the 
solitary  signal-box,  where  he  had  evidently 


A  ROSE   OF  GLEN  BOG  IE.  175 

been  performing  a  double  function,  and 
lounged  with  exasperating  deliberation 
towards  him.  He  was  a  hard-featured  man, 
with  a  thin  fringe  of  yellow-gray  whiskers 
that  met  under  his  chin  like  dirty  strings  to 
tie  his  cap  on  with. 

"  Ye  '11  be  goin'  to  Glenbogie  House,  I  'm 
thinkin'  ?  "  he  said  moodily. 

The  consul  said  that  he  was. 

"  I  kenned  it.  Ye  '11  no  be  gettin'  any 
machine  to  tak'  ye  there.  They  '11  be  send 
ing  a  carriage  for  ye  —  if  ye  're  expected" 
He  glanced  half  doubtfully  at  the  consul  as 
if  he  was  not  quite  so  sure  of  it. 

But  the  consul  believed  he  was  expected, 
and  felt  relieved  at  the  certain  prospect  of 
a  conveyance.  The  porter  meanwhile  sur 
veyed  him  moodily. 

"Ye '11  be  seem'  Mistress  MacSpadden 
there!" 

The  consul  was  surprised  into  a  little 
over-consciousness.  Mrs.  MacSpadden  was 
a  vivacious  acquaintance  at  St.  Kentigern, 
whom  he  certainly  —  and  not  without  some 
satisfaction  —  expected  to  meet  at  Glenbogie 
House.  He  raised  his  eyes  inquiringly  to 
the  porter's. 

"  Ye  '11  no  be  rememberin'  me.     I  had  a 


176  A  ROSE   OF   GLENBOGIE. 

machine  in  St.  Kentigern  and  drove  ye  to 
MacSpadden's  ferry  often.  Far,  far  too 
often !  She  's  a  strange  flagrantitious  crea 
ture  ;  her  husband 's  but  a  puir  fule,  I  'm 
thinkin',  and  ye  did  yersel'  nae  guid  gaunin' 
there." 

It  was  a  besetting  weakness  of  the  con 
sul's  that  his  sense  of  the  ludicrous  was  too 
often  reached  before  his  more  serious  per 
ceptions.  The  absurd  combination  of  the 
bleak,  inhospitable  desolation  before  him, 
and  the  sepulchral  complacency  of  his  self- 
elected  monitor,  quite  upset  his  gravity. 

"  Ay,  ye  '11  be  laughin'  the  noo,"  returned 
the  porter  with  gloomy  significance. 

The  consul  wiped  his  eyes.  "  Still,"  he 
said  demurely,  "  I  trust  you  won't  object  to 
my  giving  you  sixpence  to  carry  my  box  to 
the  carriage  when  it  comes,  and  let  the 
morality  of  this  transaction  devolve  entirely 
upon  me.  Unless,"  he  continued,  even  more 
gravely,  as  a  spick  and  span  brougham, 
drawn  by  two  thoroughbreds,  dashed  out  of 
the  mist  up  to  the  platform,  "unless  you 
prefer  to  state  the  case  to  those  two  gentle 
men  "  —  pointing  to  the  smart  coachman 
and  footman  on  the  box  —  "  and  take  their 
opinion  as  to  the  propriety  of  my  proceed- 


A  ROSE   OF   GLENBOGIE.  177 

ing  any  further.  It  seems  to  me  that  their 
consciences  ought  to  be  consulted  as  well  as 
yours.  I  'm  only  a  stranger  here,  and  am 
willing  to  do  anything  to  conform  to  the 
local  custom." 

"It's  a  saxpence  ye '11  be  payin'  any 
way,"  said  the  porter,  grimly  shouldering 
the  trunk,  "  but  I  '11  be  no  takin'  any  other 
mon's  opinion  on  matters  of  my  ain  dooty 
and  conscience." 

"Ah,"  said  the  consul  gravely,  "then 
you  '11  perhaps  be  allowing  me  the  same 
privilege." 

The  porter's  face  relaxed,  and  a  gleam  of 
approval  —  purely  intellectual,  however, — 
came  into  his  eyes. 

"  Ye  were  always  a  smooth  deevel  wi' 
your  tongue,  Mr.  Consul,"  he  said,  shoulder 
ing  the  box  and  walking  off  to  the  carriage. 

Nevertheless,  as  soon  as  he  was  fairly 
seated  and  rattling  away  from  the  station, 
the  consul  had  a  flashing  conviction  that  he 
had  not  only  been  grievously  insulted  but 
also  that  he  had  allowed  the  wife  of  an 
acquaintance  to  be  spoken  of  disrespectfully 
in  his  presence.  And  he  had  done  nothing ! 
Yes  —  it  was  like  him !  —  he  had  laughed 
at  the  absurdity  of  the  impertinence  without 


178  A   ROSE   OF   GLENBOGIE. 

resenting  it !  Another  man  would  have 
slapped  the  porter's  face !  For  an  instant 
he  hung  out  of  the  carriage  window,  intent 
upon  ordering  the  coachman  to  drive  back 
to  the  station,  but  the  reflection  —  again  a 
ludicrous  one  —  that  he  would  now  be  only 
bringing  witnesses  to  a  scene  which  might 
provoke  a  scandal  more  invidious  to  his  ac 
quaintance,  checked  him  in  time.  But  his 
spirits,  momentarily  diverted  by  the  porter's 
effrontery,  sunk  to  a  lower  ebb  than  before. 
The  clattering  of  his  horses'  hoofs  echoed 
back  from  the  rocky  walls  that  occasionally 
hemmed  in  the  road  was  not  enlivening,  but 
was  less  depressing  than  the  recurring  mo 
notony  of  the  open.  The  scenery  did  not 
suggest  wildness  to  his  alien  eyes  so  much  as 
it  affected  him  with  a  vague  sense  of  scor 
butic  impoverishment.  It  was  not  the  lone 
liness  of  unfrequented  nature,  for  there  was 
a  well-kept  carriage  road  traversing  its 
dreariness  ;  and  even  when  the  hillside  was 
clothed  with  scanty  verdure,  there  were 
"  outcrops "  of  smooth  glistening  weather 
worn  rocks  showing  like  bare  brown  knees 
under  the  all  too  imperfectly  kilted  slopes. 
And  at  a  little  distance,  lifting  above  a 
black  drift  of  firs,  were  the  square  rigid  sky 


A   ROSE   OF   GLENBOGIE.  179 

lines  of  Glenbogie  House,  standing  starkly 
against  the  cold,  lingering  northern  twilight. 
As  the  vehicle  turned,  and  rolled  between 
two  square  stone  gate-posts,  the  long  avenue 
before  him,  though  as  well  kept  as  the  road, 
was  but  a  slight  improvement  upon  the  outer 
sterility,  and  the  dark  iron-gray  rectangular 
mansion  beyond,  guiltless  of  external  decora 
tion,  even  to  the  outlines  of  its  small  lustre 
less  windows,  opposed  the  grim  inhospitable 
prospect  with  an  equally  grim  inhospitable 
front.  There  were  a  few  moments  more  of 
rapid  driving,  a  swift  swishing  over  soft 
gravel,  the  opening  of  a  heavy  door  into  a 
narrow  vestibule,  and  then  —  a  sudden  sense 
of  exquisitely  diffused  light  and  warmth 
from  an  arched  and  galleried  central  hall, 
the  sounds  of  light  laughter  and  subdued 
voices  half  lost  in  the  airy  space  between  the 
lofty  pictured  walls ;  the  luxury  of  color  in 
trophies,  armor,  and  hangings ;  one  or  two 
careless  groups  before  the  recessed  hearth 
or  at  the  centre  table,  and  the  halted  figure 
of  a  pretty  woman  on  the  broad,  slow  stair 
case.  The  contrast  was  sharp,  ironical,  and 
bewildering. 

So  much  so  that  the  consul,  when  he  had 
followed  the   servant  to  his  room,  was  im- 


180  A  ROSE   OF   GLENBOGIE. 

pelled  to  draw  aside  the  heavy  window-cur- 
tains  and  look  out  again  upon  the  bleak 
prospect  it  had  half  obliterated.  The  wing 
in  which  he  was  placed  overhung  a  dark 
ravine  or  gully  choked  with  shrubs  and  bram 
bles  that  grew  in  a  new  luxuriance.  As  he 
gazed  a  large  black  bird  floated  upwards 
slowly  from  its  depths,  circled  around  the 
house  with  a  few  quick  strokes  of  its  wing, 
and  then  sped  away  —  a  black  bolt  —  in 
one  straight  undeviating  line  towards  the 
paling  north.  He  still  gazed  into  the  abyss 
—  half  expecting  another,  even  fancying  he 
heard  the  occasional  stir  and  flutter  of  ob 
scure  life  below,  and  the  melancholy  call  of 
night-fowl.  A  long-forgotten  fragment  of 
old  English  verse  began  to  haunt  him :  — 

Hark !  the  raven  flaps  hys  wing 

In  the  briered  dell  belowe, 
Hark !  the  dethe  owl  loude  doth  synge 

To  the  night  maers  as  thaie  goe. 

"  Now,  what  put  that  stuff  in  my  head  ?  " 
he  said  as  he  turned  impatiently  from  the 
window.  "  And  why  does  this  house,  with 
all  its  interior  luxury,  hypocritically  oppose 
such  a  forbidding  front  to  its  neighbors  ?  " 
Then  it  occurred  to  him  that  perhaps  the 
architect  instinctively  felt  that  a  more  opu- 


A   ROSE    OF   GLENBOGIE.  181 

lent  and  elaborate  exterior  would  only  bring 
the  poverty  of  surrounding  nature  into 
greater  relief.  But  he  was  not  in  the 
habit  of  troubling  himself  with  abstruse 
problems.  A  nearer  recollection  of  the 
pretty  frock  he  had  seen  on  the  staircase  — 
in  whose  wearer  he  had  just  recognized  his 
vivacious  friend  —  turned  his  thoughts  to 
her.  He  remembered  how  at  their  first 
meeting  he  had  been  interested  in  her 
bright  audacity,  unconventionality,  and  high 
spirits,  which  did  not,  however,  amuse  him 
as  greatly  as  his  later  suspicion  that  she  was 
playing  a  self-elected  role,  often  with  diffi 
culty,  opposition,  and  feverishness,  rather 
than  spontaneity.  He  remembered  how  he 
had  watched  her  in  the  obtrusive  assumption 
of  a  new  fashion,  in  some  reckless  departure 
from  an  old  one,  or  in  some  ostentatious  dis 
regard  of  certain  hard  and  set  rules  of  St. 
Kentigern  ;  but  that  it  never  seemed  to  him 
that  she  was  the  happier  for  it.  He  even 
fancied  that  her  mirth  at  such  times  had  an 
undue  nervousness  ;  that  her  pluck  —  which 
was  undoubted  —  had  something  of  the  defi 
ance  of  despair,  and  that  her  persistence 
often  had  the  grimness  of  duty  rather  than 
the  thoughtlessness  of  pure  amusement. 


182  A  ROSE   OF   GLENBOGIE. 

What  was  she  trying  to  do?  —  what  was 
she  trying  to  undo  or  forget  ?  Her  married 
life  was  apparently  happy  and  even  congen 
ial.  Her  young  husband  was  clever,  com 
plaisant,  yet  honestly  devoted  to  her,  even  to 
the  extension  of  a  certain  camaraderie  to  her 
admirers  and  a  chivalrous  protection  by 
half-participation  in  her  maddest  freaks. 
Nor  could  he  honestly  say  that  her  attitude  • 
towards  his  own  sex  —  although  marked  by 
a  freedom  that  often  reached  the  verge  of 
indiscretion  —  conveyed  the  least  suggestion 
of  passion  or  sentiment.  The  consul,  more 
perceptive  than  analytical,  found  her  a  puz 
zle  —  who  was,  perhaps,  the  least  mystifying 
to  others  who  were  content  to  sum  up  her 
eccentricities  under  the  single  vague  epithet, 
"fast."  Most  women  disliked  her :  she  had 
a  few  associates  among  them,  but  no  confi 
dante,  and  even  these  were  so  unlike  her, 
again,  as  to  puzzle  him  still  more.  And  yet 
he  believed  himself  strictly  impartial. 

He  walked  to  the  window  again,  and 
looked  down  upon  the  ravine  from  which 
the  darkness  now  seemed  to  be  slowly  well 
ing  up  and  obliterating  the  landscape,  and 
then,  taking  a  book  from  his  valise,  settled 
himself  in  the  easy-chair  by  the  fire.  He 


A  ROSE   OF  GLENBOGIE.  183 

was  in  no  hurry  to  join  the  party  below, 
whom  he  had  duly  recognized  and  greeted  as 
he  passed  through.  They  or  their  proto 
types  were  familiar  friends.  There  was  the 
recently  created  baronet,  whose  "bloody 
hand  "  had  apparently  wiped  out  the  stains 
of  his  earlier  Radicalism,  and  whose  former 
provincial  self -righteousness  had  been  sup 
planted  by  an  equally  provincial  skepticism ; 
there  was  his  wife,  who  through  all  the  diffi 
culties  of  her  changed  position  had  kept  the 
stalwart  virtues  of  the  Scotch  bourgeoisie, 
and  was  —  "  decent "  ;  there  were  the  two 
native  lairds  that  reminded  him  of  "  parts  of 
speech,"  one  being  distinctly  alluded  to  as  a 
definite  article,  and  the  other  being  "  of  " 
something,  and  apparently  governed  always 
by  that  possessive  case.  There  were  two  or 
three  "  workers"  —  men  of  power  and  abil 
ity  in  their  several  vocations ;  indeed,  there 
was  the  general  over-proportion  of  intellect, 
characteristic  of  such  Scotch  gatherings,  and 
often  in  excess  of  minor  social  qualities. 
There  was  the  usual  foreigner,  with  Latin 
quickness,  eagerness,  and  misapprehending 
adaptability.  And  there  was  the  solitary 
Englishman  —  perhaps  less  generously 
equipped  than  the  others  —  whom  every- 


184  A  ROSE   OF   GLENBOGIE. 

body  differed  from,  ridiculed,  and  then 
looked  up  to  and  imitated.  There  were  the 
half-dozen  smartly  frocked  women,  who,  far 
from  being  the  females  of  the  foregoing 
species,  were  quite  indistinctive,  with  the 
single  exception  of  an  American  wife,  who 
was  infinitely  more  Scotch  than  her  Scotch 
husband. 

Suddenly  he  became  aware  of  a  faint 
rustling  at  his  door,  and  what  seemed  to  be 
a  slight  tap  on  the  panel.  He  rose  and 
opened  it  —  the  long  passage  was  dark  and 
apparently  empty,  but  he  fancied  he  could 
detect  the  quick  swish  of  a  skirt  in  the  dis 
tance.  As  he  reentered  his  room,  his  eye 
fell  for  the  first  time  on  a  rose  whose  stalk 
was  thrust  through  the  keyhole  of  his  door. 
The  consul  smiled  at  this  amiable  solution 
of  a  mystery.  It  was  undoubtedly  the  play 
ful  mischievousness  of  the  vivacious  Mac- 
Spadden.  He  placed  it  in  water  —  intend 
ing  to  wear  it  in  his  coat  at  dinner  as  a  gentle 
recognition  of  the  fair  donor's  courtesy. 

Night  had  thickened  suddenly  as  from  a 
passing  cloud.  He  lit  the  two  candles  on  his 
dressing-table,  gave  a  glance  into  the  now 
scarcely  distinguishable  abyss  below  his  win 
dow,  as  he  drew  the  curtains,  and  by  the 


A  HOSE   OF   GLENBOGIE.  185 

more  diffused  light  for  the  first  time  surveyed 
his  room  critically.  It  was  a  larger  apart 
ment  than  that  usually  set  aside  for  bache 
lors  ;  the  heavy  four-poster  had  a  conjugal 
reserve  about  it,  and  a  tall  cheval  glass  and 
certain  minor  details  of  the  furniture  sug 
gested  that  it  had  been  used  for  a  married 
couple.  He  knew  that  the  guest-rooms  in 
country  houses,  as  in  hotels,  carried  no  sug 
gestion  or  flavor  of  the  last  tenant,  and 
therefore  lacked  color  and  originality,  and 
he  was  consequently  surprised  to  find  him 
self  impressed  with  some  distinctly  novel 
atmosphere.  He  was  puzzling  himself  to 
discover  what  it  might  be,  when  he  again 
became  aware  of  cautious  footsteps  appar 
ently  halting  outside  his  door.  This  time  he 
was  prepared.  With  a  half  smile  he  stepped 
softly  to  the  door  and  opened  it  suddenly. 
To  his  intense  surprise  he  was  face  to  face 
with  a  man. 

But  his  discomfiture  was  as  nothing  com 
pared  to  that  of  the  stranger  —  whom  he  at 
once  recognized  as  one  of  his  fellow-guests 
—  the  youthful  Laird  of  Whistlecrankie. 
The  young  fellow's  healthy  color  at  once 
paled,  then  flushed  a  deep  crimson,  and  a 
forced  smile  stiffened  his  mouth. 


186  A   ROSE   OF   GLENBOGIE. 

"I  —  beg  your  par-r-rdon,"  he  said  with 
a  nervous  brusqueness  that  brought  out  his 
accent.  "  I  couldna  find  ma  room.  It  '11 
be  changed,  and  I  —  " 

"  Perhaps  I  have  got  it,"  interrupted  the 
consul  smilingly.  "  I  've  only  just  come, 
and  they  've  put  me  in  here." 

"  Nae  !  Nae !  "  said  the  young  man  hur 
riedly,  "  it 's  no'  thiss.  That  is,  it 's  no' 
mine  noo." 

"Won't  you  come  in?"  suggested  the 
consul  politely,  holding  open  the  door. 

The  young  man  entered  the  room  with 
the  quick  strides  but  the  mechanical  pur- 
poselessness  of  embarrassment.  Then  he 
stiffened  and  stood  erect.  Yet  in  spite  of 
all  this  he  was  strikingly  picturesque  and 
unconventional  in  his  Highland  dress,  worn 
with  the  freedom  of  long  custom  and  a  cer 
tain  lithe,  barbaric  grace.  As  the  consul 
continued  to  gaze  at  him  encouragingly,  the 
quick  resentful  pride  of  a  shy  man  suddenly 
mantled  his  high  cheekbones,  and  with  an 
abrupt  "  I  '11  not  deesturb  ye  longer,"  he 
strode  out  of  the  room. 

The  consul  watched  the  easy  swing  of  his 
figure  down  the  passage,  and  then  closed  the 
door.  "  Delightful  creature,"  he  said  inus- 


A   HOSE    OF   GLENBOGIE.  187 

ingly,  "  and  not  so  very  unlike  an  Apache 
chief  either !  But  what  was  he  doing  out 
side  my  door  ?  And  was  it  he  who  left  that 
rose  —  not  as  a  delicate  Highland  attention 
to  an  utter  stranger,  but "  —  the  consul's 
mouth  suddenly  expanded  —  "  to  some  fair 
previous  occupant?  Or  was  it  really 
his  room  —  he  looked  as  if  he  were  lying  — 
and  "  —  here  the  consul's  mouth  expanded 
even  more  wickedly  —  "  and  Mrs.  MacSpad- 
den  had  put  the  flower  there  for  him." 
This  implied  snub  to  his  vanity  was,  how 
ever,  more  than  compensated  by  his  wicked 
anticipation  of  the  pretty  perplexity  of  his 
fair  friend  when  he  should  appear  at  dinner 
with  the  flower  in  his  own  buttonhole.  It 
would  serve  her  right,  the  arrant  flirt !  But 
here  he  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of 
a  tall  housemaid  with  his  hot  water. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  've  dispossessed  Mr.  — 
Mr.  —  Kilcraithie  rather  prematurely,"  said 
the  consul  lightly. 

To  his  infinite  surprise  the  girl  answered 
with  grim  decision,  "  Nane  too  soon." 

The  consul  stared.  "  I  mean,"  he  ex 
plained,  "  that  I  found  him  hesitating  here 
in  the  passage,  looking  for  his  room." 

"  Ay,  he 's   always   hoaverin'    and   glow- 


188  A  ROSE   OF   GLENBOGIE. 

erin'  in  the  passages  —  but  it 's  no'  for  his 
room!  And  it's  a  deesgrace  to  decent 
Christian  folk  his  carryin'  on  wi'  married 
weemen  —  mebbee  they're  nae  better  than 
he!" 

"That  will  do,"  said  the  consul  curtly. 
He  had  no  desire  to  encourage  a  repetition 
of  the  railway  porter's  freedom. 

"  Ye  '11  no  fash  yoursel'  aboot  Aim,"  con~ 
tinued  the  girl,  without  heeding  the  rebuff. 
"  It  's  no'  the  meeetreess'  wish  that  he  's 
keepit  here  in  the  wing  reserved  for  married 
folk,  and  she  's  no'  sorry  for  the  excuse  to 
pit  ye  in  his  place.  Ye  '11  be  married  your 
sel',  I  'm  hearin'.  But,  I  ken  ye  's  nae  mair 
to  be  lippened  tae  for  that." 

This  was  too  much  for  the  consul's  grav 
ity.  "  I  'm  afraid,"  he  said  with  diplomatic 
gayety,  "  that  although  I  am  married,  as  I 
have  n't  my  wife  with  me,  I  've  no  right  to 
this  superior  accommodation  and  comfort. 
But  you  can  assure  your  mistress  that  I  '11 
try  to  deserve  them." 

"Ay,"  said  the  girl,  but  with  no  great 
confidence  in  her  voice  as  she  grimly  quitted 
the  room. 

"  When  our  foot 's  upon  our  native  heath, 
whether  our  name  's  Macgregor  or  Kilcrai- 


A  ROSE   OF   GLENBOGIE.  189 

thie,  it  would  seem  that  we  must  tread 
warily,"  mused  the  consul  as  he  began  to 
dress.  "  But  I  'm  glad  she  did  n't  see  that 
rose,  or  my  reputation  would  have  been 
ruined."  Here  another  knock  at  the  door 
arrested  him.  He  opened  it  impatiently  to 
a  tall  gillie,  who  instantly  strode  into  the 
room.  There  was  such  another  suggestion 
of  Kilcraithie  in  the  man  and  his  manner 
that  the  consul  instantly  divined  that  he  was 
Kilcraithie's  servant. 

"  I  '11  be  takin'  some  bit  things  that  yon 
Whistlecrankie  left,"  said  the  gillie  gravely, 
with  a  stolid  glance  around  the  room. 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  consul ;  "  help 
yourself."  He  continued  his  dressing  as 
the  man  began  to  rummage  in  the  empty 
drawers.  The  consul  had  his  back  towards 
him,  but,  looking  in  the  glass  of  the  dress 
ing-table,  he  saw  that  the  gillie  was  stealth 
ily  watching  him.  Suddenly  he  passed  be 
fore  the  mantelpiece  and  quickly  slipped  the 
rose  from  its  glass  into  his  hand. 

"I'll  trouble  you  to  put  that  back," 
said  the  consul  quietly,  without  turning 
round.  The  gillie  slid  a  quick  glance  to 
wards  the  door,  but  the  consul  was  before 
him.  "  I  don't  think  that  was  left  by  your 


190  A   ROSE    OF    GLENBOGIE. 

master,"  he  said  in  an  ostentatiously  calm 
voice,  for  he  was  conscious  of  an  absurd  and 
inexplicable  tumult  in  his  blood,  "  and  per 
haps  you  'd  better  put  it  back." 

The  man  looked  at  the  flower  with  an 
attention  that  might  have  been  merely  os 
tentatious,  and  replaced  it  in  the  glass. 

"  A  thocht  it  was  hiss." 

"  And  I  think  it  is  n't,"  said  the  consul, 
opening  the  door. 

Yet  when  the  man  had  passed  out  he  was 
by  no  means  certain  that  the  flower  was  not 
Kilcraithie's.  He  was  even  conscious  that  if 
the  young  Laird  had  approached  him  with 
a  reasonable  explanation  or  appeal  he  would 
have  yielded  it  up.  Yet  here  he  was  —  look 
ing  angrily  pale  in  the  glass,  his  eyes  darker 
than  they  should  be,  and  with  an  unmistak 
able  instinct  to  do  battle  for  this  idiotic 
gage !  Was  there  some  morbid  disturbance 
in  the  air  that  was  affecting  h»m  as  it  had 
Kilcraithie  ?  He  tried  to  laugh,  but  catch 
ing  sight  of  its  sardonic  reflection  in  the 
glass  became  grave  again.  He  wondered  ii 
the  gillie  had  been  really  looking  for  any 
thing  his  master  had  left  —  he  had  cer, 
taiiily  taken  nothing.  He  opened  one  or  two, 
of  the  drawers,  and  found  only  a  woman'* 


A   ROSE   OF   GLENBOGIE.  191 

tortoiseshell  hairpin  —  overlooked  by  the 
footman  when  he  had  emptied  them  for  the 
consul's  clothes.  It  had  been  probably  for 
gotten  by  some  fair  and  previous  tenant  to 
Kilcraithie.  The  consul  looked  at  his 
watch —  it  was  time  to  go  down.  He 
grimly  pinned  the  fateful  flower  in  his  but* 
tonhole,  and  half-defiantly  descended  to  the 
drawing-room. 

Here,  however,  he  was  inclined  to  relax 
when,  from  a  group  of  pretty  women,  the 
bright  gray  eyes  of  Mrs.  MacSpadden 
caught  his,  were  suddenly  diverted  to  the 
lapel  of  his  coat,  and  then  leaped  up  to  his 
again  with  a  sparkle  of  mischief.  But  the 
guests  were  already  pairing  off  in  dinner 
couples,  and  as  they  passed  out  of  the  room, 
he  saw  that  she  was  on  the  arm  of  Kil 
craithie.  Yet,  as  she  passed  him,  she 
audaciously  turned  her  head,  and  in  a  mis 
chievous  affectation  of  jealous  reproach, 
murmured :  — 

"  So  soon !  " 

At  dinner  she  was  too  far  removed  for 

.  any  conversation  with  him,  although  from 

his  seat  by  his  hostess  he  could  plainly  see 

her    saucy    profile    midway    up    the    table. 

But,  to  his  surprise,  her  companion,  Kilcrai- 


192  A   ROSE    OF   GLENBOGIE. 

thie,  did  not  seem  to  be  responding  to  her 
gayety.  By  tarns  abstracted  and  feverish, 
his  glances  occasionally  wandered  towards 
the  end  of  the  table  where  the  consul  was 
sitting.  For  a  few  moments  he  believed 
that  the  affair  of  the  flower,  combined,  per 
haps,  with  the  overhearing  of  Mrs.  MacSpad- 
den's  mischievous  sentence,  rankled  in  the 
Laird's  barbaric  soul.  But  he  became  pres 
ently  aware  that  Kilcraithie's  eyes  eventu 
ally  rested  upon  a  quiet-looking  blonde  near 
the  hostess.  Yet  the  lady  not  only  did  not 
seem  to  be  aware  of  it,  but  her  face  was 
more  often  turned  towards  the  consul,  and 
their  eyes  had  once  or  twice  met.  He  had 
been  struck  by  the  fact  that  they  were  half- 
veiled  but  singularly  unimpassioned  eyes, 
with  a  certain  expression  of  cold  wonder 
ment  and  criticism  quite  inconsistent  with 
their  veiling.  Nor  was  he  surprised  when, 
after  a  preliminary  whispering  over  the 
plates,  his  hostess  presented  him.  The  lady 
was  the  young  wife  of  the  middle-aged  dig 
nitary  who,  seated  further  down  the  table, 
opposite  Mrs.  MacSpadden,  was  apparently 
enjoying  that  lady's  wildest  levities.  The 
consul  bowed,  the  lady  leaned  a  little  for 
ward. 


A  ROSE   OF   GLENBOGIE.  193 

"  We  were  saying  what  a  lovely  rose  you 
had." 

The  consul's  inward  response  was  "  Hang 
that  flower  !  "  His  outward  expression  was 
the  modest  query :  — 

"  Is  it  so  peculiar  ?  " 

"  No ;  but  it 's  very  pretty.  Would  you 
allow  me  to  see  it  ?  " 

Disengaging  the  flower  from  his  button 
hole  he  handed  it  to  her.  Oddly  enough,  it 
seemed  to  him  that  half  the  table  was  watch 
ing  and  listening  to  them.  Suddenly  the 
lady  uttered  a  little  cry.  "  Dear  me  !  it 's 
full  of  thorns  ;  of  course  you  picked  and  ar 
ranged  it  yourself,  for  any  lady  would  have 
wrapped  something  around  the  stalk  !  " 

But  here  there  was  a  burlesque  outcry 
and  a  good-humored  protest  from  the  gen 
tlemen  around  her  against  this  manifestly 
leading  question.  "It's  no  fair!  Ye '11 
not  answer  her  —  for  the  dignity  of  our 
sex."  Yet  in  the  midst  of  it,  it  suddenly 
occurred  to  the  consul  that  there  had  been  a 
slip  of  paper  wrapped  around  it,  which  had 
come  off  and  remained  in  the  keyhole.  The 
blue  eyes  of  the  lady  were  meanwhile  sound 
ing  his,  but  he  only  smiled  and  said :  — 

"  Then  it  seems  it  is  peculiar  ?  " 


194  A   ROSE    OF   GLENBOGIE. 

When  the  conversation  became  more  gen 
eral  he  had  time  to  observe  other  features  of 
the  lady  than  her  placid  eyes.  Her  light 
hair  was  very  long,  and  grew  low  down  the 
base  of  her  neck.  Her  mouth  was  firm,  the 
upper  lip  slightly  compressed  in  a  thin  red 
line,  but  the  lower  one,  although  equally 
precise  at  the  corners,  became  fuller  in  the 
centre  and  turned  over  like  a  scarlet  leaf,  or, 
as  it  struck  him  suddenly,  like  the  tell-tale 
drop  of  blood  on  the  mouth  of  a  vampire. 
Yet  she  was  very  composed,  practical,  and 
decorous,  and  as  the  talk  grew  more  ani 
mated —  and  in  the  vicinity  of  Mrs.  Mac- 
Spadden,  more  audacious  —  she  kept  a  smil 
ing  reserve  of  expression,  —  which  did  not, 
however,  prevent  her  from  following  that 
lively  lady,  whom  she  evidently  knew,  with 
a  kind  of  encouraging  attention. 

"  Kate  is  in  full  fling  to-night,"  she  said  to 
the  hostess.  Lady  Macquoich  smiled  am 
biguously  —  so  ambiguously  that  the  consul 
thought  it  necessary  to  interfere  for  his 
friend.  "  She  seems  to  say  what  most  of  us 
think,  but  I  am  afraid  very  few  of  us  could 
voice  as  innocently,"  he  smilingly  suggested. 

"  She  is  a  great  friend  of  yours,"  returned 
the  lady,  looking  at  him  through  her  half- 


A  ROSE   OF   GLENBOGIE.  195 

veiled  lids.     "  She  has  made  us  quite  envy 
her." 

"  And  I  am  afraid  made  it  impossible  for 
me  to  either  sufficiently  thank  her  or  justify 
her  taste,"  he  said  quietly.  Yet  he  was 
vexed  at  an  unaccountable  resentment 
which  had  taken  possession  of  him  —  who 
but  a  few  hours  before  had  only  laughed  at 
the  porter's  criticism. 

After  the  ladies  had  risen,  the  consul 
with  an  instinct  of  sympathy  was  movirg 
up  towards  "  Jock "  MacSpadden,  who  sat 
nearer  the  host,  when  he  was  stopped  mid 
way  of  the  table  by  the  dignitary  who  had 
sat  opposite  to  Mrs.  MacSpadden.  "  Your 
frien'  is  maist  amusing  wi'  her  audacious 
tongue  —  ay,  and  her  audacious  ways,"  he 
said  with  large  official  patronage;  "and 
we  've  enjoyed  her  here  immensely,  but  I 
hae  mae  doots  if  mae  Leddy  Macquoich  taks 
as  kindly  to  them.  You  and  I  —  men  of  the 
wurrld,  I  may  say  —  we  understand  them 
for  a'  their  worth ;  ay !  —  ma  wife  too, 
with  whom  I  observed  ye  speakin'  —  is 
maist  tolerant  of  her,  but  man !  it 's  extraor- 
dinar'  "  —  he  lowered  his  voice  slightly  — 
"that  yon  husband  of  hers  does  na'  check 
her  freedoms  with  Kilcraithie.  I  wadna' 


196  A   ROSE    OF   GLENBOGIE. 

say  anythin'  was  wrong,  ye  ken,  but  is  he 
no'  over  confident  and  conceited  aboot  his 
wife?" 

"  I  see  you  don't  know  him,"  said  the 
consul  smilingly,  "  and  I  'd  be  delighted  to 
make  you  acquainted.  Jock,"  he  contin 
ued,  raising  his  voice  as  he  turned  towards 
MacSpadden,  "  let  me  introduce  you  to 
Sir  Alan  Deeside,  who  don't  know  you,  al 
though  he 's  a  great  admirer  of  your  wife ;  " 
and  unheeding  the  embarrassed  protestations 
of  Sir  Alan  and  the  laughing  assertions  of 
Jock  that  they  were  already  acquainted,  he 
moved  on  beside  his  host.  That  hospitable 
knight,  who  had  been  airing  his  knowledge 
of  London  smart  society  to  his  English 
guest  with  a  singular  mixture  of  assertion 
and  obsequiousness,  here  stopped  short. 
"  Ay,  sit  down,  laddie,  it  was  so  guid  of  ye 
to  come,  but  I  'm  thinkin'  at  your  end  of 
the  table  ye  lost  the  bit  fun  of  Mistress 
MacSpadden.  Eh,  but  she  was  unco'  lively 
to-night.  'T  was  all  Kilcraithie  could  do  to 
keep  her  from  proposin'  your  health  with 
Hieland  honors,  and  offerin'  to  lead  off 
with  her  ain  foot  on  the  table!  Ay,  and 
she  'd  ha'  done  it.  And  that 's  a  braw  rose 
she 's  been  givin'  ye  —  and  ye  got  out  of  it 
claverly  wi'  Lady  Deeside." 


A   ROSE   OF   GLENBOGIE.  197 

When  he  left  the  table  with  the  others  to 
join  the  ladies,  the  same  unaccountable  feel 
ing  of  mingled  shyness  and  nervous  irasci 
bility  still  kept  possession  of  him.  He  felt 
that  in  his  present  mood  he  could  not  listen 
to  any  further  criticisms  of  his  friend  with 
out  betraying  some  unwonted  heat,  and  as 
his  companions  filed  into  the  drawing-room 
he  slipped  aside  in  the  hope  of  recovering 
his  equanimity  by  a  few  moments'  reflection 
in  his  own  room.  He  glided  quickly  up  the 
staircase  and  entered  the  corridor.  The 
passage  that  led  to  his  apartment  was  quite 
dark,  especially  before  his  door,  which  was 
in  a  bay  that  really  ended  the  passage. 
He  was  consequently  surprised  and  some 
what  alarmed  at  seeing  a  shadowy  female 
figure  hovering  before  it.  He  instinctively 
halted ;  the  figure  became  more  distinct 
from  some  luminous  halo  that  seemed  to 
encompass  it.  It  struck  him  that  this  was 
only  the  light  of  his  fire  thrown  through  his 
open  door,  and  that  the  figure  was  probably 
that  of  a  servant  before  it,  who  had  been 
arranging  his  room.  He  started  forward 
again,  but  at  the  sound  of  his  advancing 
footsteps  the  figure  and  the  luminous  glow 
vanished,  and  he  arrived  blankly  face  to 


198  A   ROSE   OF   GLENBOGIE. 

face  with  his  own  closed  door.  He  looked 
around  the  dim  bay ;  it  was  absolutely  va 
cant.  It  was  equally  impossible  for  any 
one  to  have  escaped  without  passing  him. 
There  was  only  his  room  left.  A  half- 
nervous,  half-superstitious  thrill  crept  over 
him  as  he  suddenly  grasped  the  handle  of 
the  door  and  threw  it  open.  The  leaping 
light  of  his  fire  revealed  its  emptiness :  no 
one  was  there !  He  lit  the  candle  and  peered 
behind  the  curtains  and  furniture  and  under 
the  bed  ;  the  room  was  as  vacant  and  un 
disturbed  as  when  he  left  it. 

Had  it  been  a  trick  of  his  senses  or  a 
bona-fide  apparition  ?  He  had  never  heard 
of  a  ghost  at  Glenbogie  —  the  house  dated 
back  some  fifty  years ;  Sir  John  Mac- 
quoich's  tardy  knighthood  carried  no  such 
impedimenta.  He  looked  down  wonderingly 
on  the  flower  in  his  buttonhole.  Was  there 
something  uncanny  in  that  innocent  blos 
som  ?  But  here  he  was  struck  by  another 
recollection,  and  examined  the  keyhole  of 
his  door.  With  the  aid  of  the  tortoiseshell 
hairpin  he  dislodged  the  paper  he  had  for 
gotten.  It  was  only  a  thin  spiral  strip,  ap 
parently  the  white  outer  edge  of  some  news 
paper,  and  it  certainly  seemed  to  be  of  little 


A   ROSE    OF   GLENBOGIE.  199 

service  as  a  protection  against  the  thorns  of 
the  rose-stalk.  He  was  holding  it  over  the 
fire,  about  to  drop  it  into  the  blaze,  when 
the  flame  revealed  some  pencil-marks  upon 
it.  Taking  it  to  the  candle  he  read,  deeply 
bitten  into  the  paper  by  a  hard  pencil-point : 
"  At  half-past  one."  There  was  nothing 
else  —  no  signature  ;  but  the  handwriting 
was  not  Mrs.  MacSpadden's ! 

Then  whose  ?  Was  it  that  of  the  mys 
terious  figure  whom  he  had  just  seen  ?  Had 
he  been  selected  as  the  medium  of  some 
spiritual  communication,  and,  perhaps,  a 
ghostly  visitation  later  on  ?  Or  was  he  the 
victim  of  some  clever  trick?  He  had  once 
witnessed  such  dubious  attempts  to  relieve 
the  monotony  of  a  country  house.  He 
again  examined  the  room  carefully,  but 
without  avail.  Well !  the  mystery  or  trick 
would  be  revealed  at  half -past  one.  It  was 
a  somewhat  inconvenient  hour,  certainly. 
He  looked  down  at  the  baleful  gift  in  his 
buttonhole,  and  for  a  moment  felt  inclined 
to  toss  it  in  the  fire.  But  this  was  quickly 
followed  by  his  former  revision  of  re 
sentment  and  defiance.  No !  he  would  wear 
it,  no  matter  what  happened,  until  its  ma 
terial  or  spiritual  owner  came  for  it.  He 


200  A   ROSE    OF   GLENBOGIE. 

closed  the  door  and  returned  to  the  drawing- 
room. 

Midway  of  the  staircase  he  heard  the 
droning  of  pipes.  There  was  dancing  in 
the  drawing-room  to  the  music  of  the  gor 
geous  piper  who  had  marshaled  them  to 
dinner.  He  was  not  sorry,  as  he  had  no  in 
clination  to  talk,  and  the  one  confidence  he 
had  anticipated  with  Mrs.  MacSpadden  was 
out  of  the  question  now.  He  had  no  right 
to  reveal  his  later  discovery.  He  lingered 
a  few  moments  in  the  hall.  The  buzzing  of 
the  piper's  drones  gave  him  that  impression 
of  confused  and  blindly  aggressive  intoxica 
tion  which  he  had  often  before  noticed  in 
this  barbaric  instrument,  and  had  always 
seemed  to  him  as  the  origin  of  its  martial 
inspiration.  From  this  he  was  startled  by 
voices  and  steps  in  the  gallery  he  had  just 
quitted,  but  which  came  from  the  opposite 
direction  to  his  room.  It  was  Kilcraithie 
and  Mrs.  MacSpadden.  As  she  caught 
sight  of  him,  he  fancied  she  turned  slightly 
and  aggressively  pale,  with  a  certain  harden 
ing  of  her  mischievous  eyes.  Nevertheless, 
she  descended  the  staircase  more  deliberately 
than  her  companion,  who  brushed  past  him 
with  an  embarrassed  self-consciousness,  quite 


A  ROSE    OF   GLENBOGTE.  201 

in  advance  of  her.  She  lingered  for  an  in 
stant. 

"  You  are  not  dancing  ?  "  she  said. 

"  No." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  more  agreeably  em 
ployed?" 

"  At  this  exact  moment,  certainly." 

She  cast  a  disdainful  glance  at  him, 
crossed  the  hall,  and  followed  Kilcraithie. 

"  Hang  me,  if  I  understand  it  all !  "  mused 
the  consul,  by  no  means  good-humoredly. 
"Does  she  think  I  have  been  spying  upon 
her  and  her  noble  chieftain  ?  But  it 's  just 
as  well  that  I  did  n't  tell  her  anything." 

He  turned  to  follow  them.  In  the  vesti 
bule  he  came  upon  a  figure  which  had  halted 
before  a  large  pier-glass.  He  recognized 
M.  Delfosse,  the  French  visitor,  compla 
cently  twisting  the  peak  of  his  Henri  Quatre 
beard.  He  would  have  passed  without 
speaking,  but  the  Frenchman  glanced  smi 
lingly  at  the  consul  and  his  buttonhole. 
Again  the  flower ! 

"  Monsieur  is  decore,"  he  said  gallantly. 

The  consul  assented,  but  added,  not  so 
gallantly,  that  though  they  were  not  in 
France  he  might  still  be  unworthy  of  it. 
The  baleful  flower  had  not  improved  his 


202  A   ROSE   OF   GLENBOGIE. 

temper.  Nor  did  the  fact  that,  as  he  entered 
the  room,  he  thought  the  people  stared  at 
him  —  until  he  saw  that  their  attention  was 
directed  to  Lady  Deeside,  who  had  entered  al 
most  behind  him.  From  his  hostess,  who  had 
offered  him  a  seat  beside  her,  he  gathered  that 
M.  Delfosse  and  Kilcraithie  had  each  tem 
porarily  occupied  his  room,  but  that  they 
had  been  transferred  to  the  other  wing,  apart 
from  the  married  couples  and  young  ladies, 
because  when  they  came  upstairs  from  the 
billiard  and  card  room  late,  they  sometimes 
disturbed  the  fair  occupants.  No !  —  there 
were  no  ghosts  at  Glenbogie.  Mysterious 
footsteps  had  sometimes  been  heard  in  the 
ladies'  corridor,  but  —  with  peculiar  signifi 
cance  —  she  was  afraid  they  could  be  easily 
accounted  for.  Sir  Alan,  whose  room  was 
next  to  the  MacSpaddens',  had  been  dis 
turbed  by  them. 

He  was  glad  when  it  was  time  to  escape 
to  the  billiard-room  and  tobacco.  For  a 
while  he  forgot  the  evening's  adventure,  but 
eventually  found  himself  listening  to  a  dis 
cussion  —  carried  on  over  steaming  tumblers 
of  toddy  —  in  regard  to  certain  predisposi 
tions  of  the  always  debatable  sex. 

"  Ye  '11  not  always  judge  by  appearances," 


A   ROSE   OF   GLENBOGIE.  203 

said  Sir  Alan.  "  Ye  '11  mind  the  story  o'  the 
meeuester's  wife  of  Aiblinnoch.  It  was 
thocht  that  she  was  ower  free  wi'  one  o'  the 
parishioners  —  ay!  it  was  the  claish  o'  the 
whole  kirk,  while  none  dare  tell  the  meenes- 
ter  hisself  —  beiii'  a  bookish,  simple,  unsus- 
pectin'  creeter.  At  last  one  o'  the  elders 
bethocht  him  of  a  bit  plan  of  bringing  it  home 
to  the  wife,  through  the  gospel  lips  of  her 
ain  husband !  So  he  intimated  to  the  meen- 
ester  his  suspicions  of  grievous  laxity  araang 
the  female  flock,  and  of  the  necessity  of  a 
special  sermon  on  the  Seventh  Command. 
The  puir  man  consented  —  although  he  dinna 
ken  why  and  wherefore  —  and  preached  a 
gran'  sermon !  Ay,  man !  it  was  crammed 
wi'  denunciation  and  an  emptyin'  o'  the  vials 
o'  wrath!  The  congregation  sat  dumb  as 
huddled  sheep — when  they  were  no'  starin' 
and  gowpin'  at  the  meenester's  wife  settin' 
bolt  upright  in  her  place.  And  then,  when 
the  air  was  blue  wi'  sulphur  frae  tae  pit,  the 
meenester's  wife  up  rises !  Man !  Ivry  eye 
was  spearin'  her — ivry  lug  was  prickt 
towards  her !  And  she  goes  out  in  the  aisle 
facin'  the  meenester,  and  —  " 

Sir  Alan  paused. 

"  And  what  ?  "  demanded  the  eager  audi 
tory. 


204  A   ROSE    OF   GLENBOGIE. 

"  She  pickit  up  the  elder's  wife,  sobbin' 
and  tearin'  her  hair  in  strong  hysterics." 

At  the  end  of  a  relieved  pause  Sir  Alan 
slowly  concluded :  "  It  was  said  that  the 
elder  removed  frae  Aiblinnoch  wi'  his  wife, 
but  no'  till  he  had  effected  a  change  of 
meenesters." 

It  was  already  past  midnight,  and  the 
party  had  dropped  off  one  by  one,  with  the 
exception  of  Deeside,  Macquoich,  the  young 
Englishman,  and  a  Scotch  laird,  who  were 
playing  poker  —  an  amusement  which  he 
understood  they  frequently  protracted  until 
three  in  the  morning.  It  was  nearly  time 
for  him  to  expect  his  mysterious  visitant. 
Before  he  went  upstairs  he  thought  he  would 
take  a  breath  of  the  outer  evening  air,  and 
throwing  a  mackintosh  over  his  shoulders, 
passed  out  of  the  garden  door  of  the  billiard- 
room.  To  his  surprise  it  gave  immediately 
upon  the  fringe  of  laurel  that  hung  over  the 
chasm. 

It  was  quite  dark;  the  few  far-spread 
stars  gave  scarcely  any  light,  and  the  slight 
auroral  glow  towards  the  north  was  all  that 
outlined  the  fringe  of  the  abyss,  which  might 
have  proved  dangerous  to  any  unfamiliar 
wanderer.  A  damp  breath  of  sodden  leaves 


A   HOSE    OF   GLENBOGIE.  205 

came  from  its  depths.  Beside  him  stretched 
the  long  dark  fagade  of  the  wing  he  in 
habited,  his  own  window  the  only  one  that 
showed  a  faint  light.  A  few  paces  beyond, 
a  singular  structure  of  rustic  wood  and  glass, 
combining  the  peculiarities  of  a  sentry-box, 
a  summer-house,  and  a  shelter,  was  built 
against  the  blank  wall  of  the  wing.  He  im 
agined  the  monotonous  prospect  from  its 
windows  of  the  tufted  chasm,  the  coldly  pro 
filed  northern  hills  beyond,  —  and  shivered. 
A  little  further  on,  sunk  in  the  wall  like  a 
postern,  was  a  small  door  that  evidently  gave 
easy  egress  to  seekers  of  this  stern  retreat. 
In  the  still  air  a  faint  grating  sound  like 
the  passage  of  a  foot  across  gravel  came  to 
him  as  from  the  distance.  He  paused,  think 
ing  he  had  been  followed  by  one  of  the  card- 
players,  but  saw  no  one,  and  the  sound  was 
not  repeated. 

It  was  past  one.  He  reentered  the  bil 
liard-room,  passed  the  unchanged  group  of 
card-players,  and  taking  a  candlestick  from 
the  hall  ascended  the  dark  and  silent  stair 
case  into  the  corridor.  The  light  of  his  can 
dle  cast  a  flickering  halo  around  him  —  but 
did  not  penetrate  the  gloomy  distance.  He 
at  last  halted  before  his  door,  gave  a  scruti- 


206  A  ROSE   OF   GLENBOGIE. 

nizing  glance  around  the  embayed  recess, 
and  opened  the  door  half  expectantly.  But 
the  room  was  empty  as  he  had  left  it. 

It  was  a  quarter  past  one.  He  threw 
himself  on  the  bed  without  undressing,  and 
fixed  his  eyes  alternately  on  the  door  and 
his  watch.  Perhaps  the  unwonted  serious 
ness  of  his  attitude  struck  him,  but  a  sudden 
sense  of  the  preposterousness  of  the  whole 
situation,  of  his  solemnly  ridiculous  accep 
tance  of  a  series  of  mere  coincidences  as 
a  foregone  conclusion,  overcame  him,  and 
he  laughed.  But  in  the  same  breath  he 
stopped. 

There  were  footsteps  approaching  —  cau 
tious  footsteps  —  but  not  at  his  door !  They 
were  in  the  room  —  no !  in  the  wall  just  be 
hind  him !  They  were  descending  some 
staircase  at  the  back  of  his  bed  —  he  could 
hear  the  regular  tap  of  a  light  slipper  from 
step  to  step  and  the  rustle  of  a  skirt  seem 
ingly  in  his  very  ear.  They  were  becoming 
less  and  less  distinct  —  they  were  gone  !  He 
sprang  to  his  feet,  but  almost  at  the  same 
instant  he  was  conscious  of  a  sudden  chill  — 
that  seemed  to  him  as  physical  as  it  was 
mental.  The  room  was  slowly  suffused  with 
a  cool  sodden  breath  and  the  dank  odor 


A  ROSE   OF  GLENBOGIE.  207 

of  rotten  leaves.  He  looked  at  the  candle 
—  its  flame  was  actually  deflecting  in 
this  mysterious  blast.  It  seemed  to  come 
from  a  recess  for  hanging  clothes  topped  by 
a  heavy  cornice  and  curtain.  He  had  ex 
amined  it  before,  but  he  drew  the  curtain 
once  more  aside.  The  cold  current  certainly 
seemed  to  be  more  perceptible  there.  He 
felt  the  red-clothed  backing  of  the  interior, 
and  his  hand  suddenly  grasped  a  doorknob. 
It  turned,  and  the  whole  structure  —  cornice 
and  curtains  —  swung  inwards  towards  him 
with  the  door  on  which  it  was  hung  !  Be 
hind  it  was  a  dark  staircase  leading  from  the 
floor  above  to  some  outer  door  below,  whose 
opening  had  given  ingress  to  the  chill  humid 
current  from  the  ravine.  This  was  the  stair 
case  where  he  had  just  heard  the  footsteps  — 
and  this  was,  no  doubt,  the  door  through 
which  the  mysterious  figure  had  vanished 
from  his  room  a  few  hours  before ! 

Taking  his  candle,  he  cautiously  ascended 
the  stairs  until  he  found  himself  on  the  land 
ing  of  the  suites  of  the  married  couples  and 
directly  opposite  to  the  rooms  of  the  Mac- 
Spaddens  and  Deesides.  He  was  about  to 
descend  again  when  he  heard  a  far-off  shout, 
a  scuffling  sound  on  the  outer  gravel,  and 


208  A   ROSE   OF   GLENBOG1E. 

the  frenzied  shaking  of  the  handle  of  the 
lower  door.  He  had  hardly  time  to  blow 
out  his  candle  and  flatten  himself  against 
the  wall,  when  the  door  was  flung  open  and 
a  woman  frantically  flew  up  the  staircase. 
His  own  door  was  still  open ;  from  within 
its  depths  the  light  of  his  fire  projected  a 
flickering  beam  across  the  steps.  As  she 
rushed  past  it  the  light  revealed  her  face ; 
it  needed  not  the  peculiar  perfume  of  her 
garments  as  she  swept  by  his  concealed  fig- 
tire  to  make  him  recognize  —  Lady  Deeside ! 

Amazed  and  confounded,  he  was  about  to 
descend,  when  he  heard  the  lower  door  again 
open.  But  here  a  sudden  instinct  made  him 
pause,  turn,  and  reascend  to  the  upper  land 
ing.  There  he  calmly  relit  his  candle,  and 
made  his  way  down  to  the  corridor  that  over 
looked  the  central  hall.  The  sound  of  sup 
pressed  voices  —  speaking  with  the  exhausted 
pauses  that  come  from  spent  excitement  — 
made  him  cautious  again,  and  he  halted.  It 
was  the  card  party  slowly  passing  from  the 
billiard-room  to  the  hall. 

"  Ye  owe  it  yoursel'  —  to  your  wife  —  not 
to  pit  up  with  it  a  day  longer,"  said  the  sub 
dued  voice  of  Sir  Alan.  "  Man  !  ye  war  in 
an  ace  o'  havin'  a  braw  scandal." 


A  ROSE    OF   GLENBOGIE.  209 

"  Could  ye  no'  get  your  wife  to  speak  till 
her,"  responded  Macquoich,  "to  gie  her  a 
hint  that  she 's  better  awa'  out  of  this  ? 
Lady  Deeside  has  some  influence  wi'  her." 

The  consul  ostentatiously  dropped  the  ex 
tinguisher  from  his  candlestick.  The  party 
looked  up  quickly.  Their  faces  were  still 
flushed  and  agitated,  but  a  new  restraint 
seemed  to  come  upon  them  on  seeing  him. 

"  I  thought  I  heard  a  row  outside,"  said 
the  consul  explanatorily. 

They  each  looked  at  their  host  without 
speaking. 

"  Oh,  ay,"  said  Macquoich,  with  simu 
lated  heartiness,  "  a  bit  fuss  between  the 
Kilcraithie  and  yon  Frenchman ;  but  they  're 
baith  goin'  in  the  mornin'." 

"•  I  thought  I  heard  MacSpadden's  voice," 
said  the  consul  quietly. 

There  was  a  dead  silence.  Then  Mac 
quoich  said  hurriedly :  — 

"  Is  he  no'  in  his  room  —  in  bed  —  asleep, 
-man?" 

"  I  really  don't  know ;  I  did  n't  inquire," 
said  the  consul  with  a  slight  yawn.  "  Good 
night ! " 

He  turned,  not  without  hearing  them 
eagerly  whispering  again,  and  entered  the 


210  A   ROSE    OF   GLENBOGIE. 

passage  leading  to  his  own  room.  As  he 
opened  the  door  he  was  startled  to  find  the 
subject  of  his  inquiry  —  Jock  MacSpadden 
—  quietly  seated  in  his  armchair  by  his  fire. 

"Jock!" 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,  old  man  ;  I  came  up 
by  that  staircase  and  saw  the  door  open,  and 
guessed  you'd  be  returning  soon.  But  it 
seemed  you  went  round  by  the  corridor,"  he 
said,  glancing  curiously  at  the  consul's  face. 
"  Did  you  meet  the  crowd  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Jock !      What  does  it  all  mean  ?  " 

MacSpadden  laughed.  "  It  means  that  I 
was  just  in  time  to  keep  Kilcraithie  from 
chucking  Delfosse  down  that  ravine ;  but 
they  both  scooted  when  they  saw  me.  By 
Jove !  I  don't  know  which  was  the  most 
frightened." 

"  But,"  said  the  consul  slowly,  "  what 
was  it  all  about,  Jock  ?  " 

"  Some  gallantry  of  that  d — d  French 
man,  who  's  trying  to  do  some  woman-stalk 
ing  up  here,  and  jealousy  of  Kilcraithie's, 
who  's  just  got  enough  of  his  forbears'  blood 
in  him  to  think  nothing  of  sticking  three 
inches  of  his  dirk  in  the  wame  of  the  man 
that  crosses  him.  But  I  say,"  continued 
Jock,  leaning  easily  back  in  his  chair,  "  you 


A   ROSE    OF   GLENBOGIE.  211 

ought  to  know  something  of  all  this.  This 
room,  old  man,  was  used  as  a  sort  of  rendez 
vous,  having  two  outlets,  don't  you  see, 
when  they  could  n't  get  at  the  summer-house 
below.  By  Jove !  they  both  had  it  in  turns 
—  Kilcraithie  and  the  Frenchman  —  until 
Lady  Macquoich  got  wind  of  something, 
swept  them  out,  and  put  you  in  it." 

The  consul  rose  and  approached  his  friend 
with  a  grave  face.  "  Jock,  I  do  know  some 
thing  about  it  —  more  about  it  than  any  one 
thinks.  You  and  I  are  old  friends.  Shall 
I  tell  you  what  I  know  ?  " 

Jock's  handsome  face  became  a  trifle 
paler,  but  his  frank,  clear  eyes  rested  stead 
ily  on  the  consul's. 

"  Go  on !  "  he  said. 

"I  know  that  this  flower  which  I  am 
wearing  was  the  signal  for  the  rendezvous 
this  evening,"  said  the  consul  slowly,  "  and 
this  paper,"  taking  it  from  his  pocket,  "  con 
tained  the  time  of  the  meeting,  written  in 
the  lady's  own  hand.  I  know  who  she  was, 
for  I  saw  her  face  as  plainly  as  I  see  yours 
now,  by  the  light  of  the  same  fire ;  it  was  as 
pale,  but  not  as  frank  as  yours,  old  man. 
That  is  what  I  know.  But  I  know  also 
what  people  think  they  know,  and  for  that 


212  A   ROSE   OF   GLENBOGIE. 

reason  I  put  that  paper  in  your  hand.  It  is 
yours  —  your  vindication  —  your  revenge, 
if  you  choose.  Do  with  it  what  you  like." 

Jock,  with  unchanged  features  and  un- 
dimmed  eyes,  took  the  paper  from  the  con 
sul's  hand,  without  looking  at  it. 

"  I  may  do  with  it  what  I  like  ?  "  he  re 
peated. 

"Yes." 

He  was  about  to  drop  it  into  the  fire,  but 
the  consul  stayed  his  hand. 

"  Are  you  not  going  to  look  at  the  hand 
writing  first?  " 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence.  Jock 
raised  his  eyes  with  a  sudden  flash  of  pride 
in  them  and  said,  "  No !  " 

The  friends  stood  side  by  side,  grasping 
each  other's  hands,  as  the  burning  paper 
leaped  up  the  chimney  in  a  vanishing  flame. 

"  Do  you  think  you  have  done  quite  right, 
Jock,  in  view  of  any  scandal  you  may  hear  ?  " 

"  Quite  !  You  see,  old  man,  I  know  my 
wife  —  but  I  don't  think  that  Deeside  knows 
his." 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE 
HACIENDA. 


DICK  BRACT  gazed  again  at  the  Hacienda 
de  los  Osos,  and  hesitated.  There  it  lay  — 
its  low  whitewashed  walls  looking  like  a 
quartz  outcrop  of  the  long  lazy  hillside  — 
unmistakably  hot,  treeless,  and  staring 
broadly  in  the  uninterrupted  Californian 
sunlight.  Yet  he  knew  that  behind  those 
blistering  walls  was  a  reposeful  patio,  sur 
rounded  by  low-pitched  verandas ;  that  the 
casa  was  full  of  roomy  corridors,  nooks,  and 
recesses,  in  which  lurked  the  shadows  of  a 
century,  and  that  hidden  by  the  further 
wall  was  a  lonely  old  garden,  hoary  with 
gnarled  pear-trees,  and  smothered  in  the 
spice  and  dropping  leaves  of  its  baking 
roses.  He  knew  that,  although  the  unwink 
ing  sun  might  glitter  on  its  red  tiles,  and  the 
unresting  trade  winds  whistle  around  its 
angles,  it  always  kept  one  unvarying  tem 
perature  and  untroubled  calm,  as  if  the  dig- 


214      THE  MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA. 

nity  of  years  had  triumphed  over  the 
changes  of  ephemeral  seasons.  But  would 
others  see  it  with  his  eyes?  Would  his 
practical,  housekeeping  aunt,  and  his  pretty 
modern  cousin  — 

"Well,  what  do  you  say?  Speak  the 
word,  and  you  can  go  into  it  with  your  folks 
to-morrow.  And  I  reckon  you  won't  want 
to  take  anything  either,  for  you  '11  find 
everything  there  —  just  as  the  old  Don  left 
it.  I  don't  want  it ;  the  land  is  good  enough 
for  me ;  I  shall  have  my  vaqueros  and  ran- 
cheros  to  look  after  the  crops  and  the  cattle, 
and  they  won't  trouble  you,  for  their  sheds 
and  barns  will  be  two  miles  away.  You  can 
stay  there  as  long  as  you  like,  and  go  when 
you  choose.  You  might  like  to  try  it  for  a 
spell ;  it 's  all  the  same  to  me.  But  I  should 
think  it  the  sort  of  thing  a  man  like  you 
would  fancy,  and  it  seems  the  right  thing  to 
have  you  there.  Well,  —  what  shall  it  be  ? 
Is  it  a  go?" 

Dick  knew  that  the  speaker  was  sincere. 
It  was  an  offer  perfectly  characteristic  of  his 
friend,  the  Western  millionaire,  who  had 
halted  by  his  side.  And  he  knew  also  that 
the  slow  lifting  of  his  bridle-rein,  prepara 
tory  to  starting  forward  again,  was  the  busi- 


THE  MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA.      215 

ness-like  gesture  of  a  man  who  wasted  no 
time  even  over  his  acts  of  impulsive  liberal 
ity.  In  another  moment  he  would  dismiss 
the  unaccepted  offer  from  his  mind  —  with 
out  concern  and  without  resentment. 

"Thank  you  —  it  is  a  go,"  said  Dick 
gratefully. 

Nevertheless,  when  he  reached  his  own 
little  home  in  the  outskirts  of  San  Francisco 
that  night,  he  was  a  trifle  nervous  in  confid 
ing  to  the  lady,  who  was  at  once  his  aunt 
and  housekeeper,  the  fact  that  he  was  now 
the  possessor  of  a  huge  mansion  in  whose 
patio  alone  the  little  eight-roomed  villa 
where  they  had  lived  contentedly  might  be 
casually  dropped.  "  You  see,  Aunt  Viney," 
he  hurriedly  explained,  "  it  would  have  been 
so  ungrateful  to  have  refused  him  —  and  it 
really  was  an  offer  as  spontaneous  as  it  was 
liberal.  And  then,  you  see,  we  need  occupy 
only  a  part  of  the  casa." 

"  And  who  will  look  after  the  other 
part  ?  "  said  Aunt  Viney  grimly.  "  That 
will  have  to  be  kept  tidy,  too ;  and  the  ser 
vants  for  such  a  house,  where  in  heaven  are 
they  to  come  from  ?  Or  do  they  go  with 
it?" 

"  No,"  said  Dick  quickly ;  "  the  servants 


216      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  HACIENDA. 

left  with  their  old  master,  when  Bingstone 
bought  the  property.  But  we  '11  find  ser 
vants  enough  in  the  neighborhood  —  Mexi 
can  peons  and  Indians,  you  know." 

Aunt  Viney  sniffed.  "  And  you  '11  have 
to  entertain  —  if  it 's  a  big  house.  There 
are  all  your  Spanish  neighbors.  They  '11  be 
gallivanting  in  and  out  all  the  time." 

"  They  won't  trouble  us,"  he  returned, 
with  some  hesitation.  "You  see,  they're 
furious  at  the  old  Don  for  disposing  of  his 
lands  to  an  American,  and  they  won't  be 
likely  to  look  upon  the  strangers  in  the  new 
place  as  anything  but  interlopers." 

"Oh,  that  is  it,  is  it?"  ejaculated  Aunt 
Viney,  with  a  slight  puckering  of  her  lips. 
"  I  thought  there  was  something" 

"  My  dear  aunt,"  said  Dick,  with  a  sudden 
illogical  heat  which  he  tried  to  suppress ; 
"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean  by  *  it '  and 
'  something.'  Bingstone's  offer  was  perfectly 
unselfish ;  he  certainly  did  not  suppose  that 
I  would  be  affected,  any  more  than  he  would 
be,  by  the  childish  sentimentality  of  these 
people  over  a  legitimate,  every-day  business 
affair.  The  old  Don  made  a  good  bargain, 
and  simply  sold  the  land  he  could  no  longer 
make  profitable  with  his  obsolete  methods 


THE  MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA.      217 

of  farming,  his  gang  of  idle  retainers,  and 
his  Noah's  Ark  machinery,  to  a  man  who 
knew  how  to  use  steam  reapers,  and  hired 
sensible  men  to  work  on  shares."  Never 
theless  he  was  angry  with  himself  for  mak 
ing  any  explanation,  and  still  more  dis 
turbed  that  he  was  conscious  of  a  certain 
feeling  that  it  was  necessary. 

"  I  was  thinking,"  said  Aunt  Viney 
quietly,  "that  if  we  invited  anybody  to  stay 
with  us  —  like  Cecily,  for  example  —  it 
might  be  rather  dull  for  her  if  we  had  no 
neighbors  to  introduce  her  to." 

Dick  started  ;  he  had  not  thought  of  this. 
He  had  been  greatly  influenced  by  the  belief 
that  his  pretty  cousin,  who  was  to  make 
them  a  visit,  would  like  the  change  and 
would  not  miss  excitement.  "  We  can 
always  invite  some  girls  down  there  and 
make  our  own  company,"  he  answered  cheer 
fully.  Nevertheless,  he  was  dimly  conscious 
that  he  had  already  made  an  airy  castle  of 
the  old  hacienda,  in  which  Cecily  and  her 
aunt  moved  alone.  It  was  to  Cecily  that  he 
would  introduce  the  old  garden,  it  was 
Cecily  whom  he  would  accompany  through 
the  dark  corridors,  and  with  whom  he  would 
lounge  under  the  awnings  of  the  veranda. 


218      THE   MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA. 

All  this  innocently,  and  without  prejudice 
or  ulterior  thought.  He  was  not  yet  in  love 
with  the  pretty  cousin  whom  he  had  seen 
but  once  or  twice  during  the  past  few  years, 
but  it  was  a  possibility  not  unpleasant  to 
occasionally  contemplate.  Yet  it  was  equally 
possible  that  she  might  yearn  for  lighter 
companionship  and  accustomed  amusement ; 
that  the  passion-fringed  garden  and  shadow- 
haunted  corridor  might  be  profaned  by  hoy- 
denish  romping  and  laughter,  or  by  that 
frivolous  flirtation  which,  in  others,  he  had 
always  regarded  as  commonplace  and  vulgar. 
Howbeit,  at  the  end  of  two  weeks  he 
found  himself  regularly  installed  in  the 
Hacienda  de  los  Osos.  His  little  household, 
reenforced  by  his  cousin  Cecily  and  three 
peons  picked  up  at  Los  Finos,  bore  their 
transplantation  with  a  singular  equanimity 
that  seemed  to  him  unaccountable.  Then 
occured  one  of  those  revelations  of  character 
with  which  Nature  is  always  ready  to  trip 
up  merely  human  judgment.  Aunt  Viney, 
an  unrelenting  widow  of  calm  but  unshaken 
Dutch  prejudices,  high  but  narrow  in  reli 
gious  belief,  merged  without  a  murmur  into 
the  position  of  chatelaine  of  this  unconven 
tional,  half-Latin  household.  Accepting 


THE  MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA.      219 

the  situation  without  exaltation  or  criticism, 
placid  but  unresponsive  amidst  the  youthful 
enthusiasm  of  Dick  and  Cecily  over  each 
quaint  detail,  her  influence  was,  neverthe 
less,  felt  throughout  the  lingering  length 
and  shadowy  breadth  of  the  strange  old 
house.  The  Indian  and  Mexican  servants, 
at  first  awed  by  her  practical  superiority, 
succumbed  to  her  half-humorous  toleration 
of  their  incapacity,  and  became  her  devoted 
slaves.  Dick  was  astonished,  and  even 
Cecily  was  confounded.  "  Do  you  know," 
she  said  confidentially  to  her  cousin,  "  that 
when  that  brown  Conchita  thought  to  please 
Aunty  by  wearing  white  stockings  instead 
of  going  round  as  usual  with  her  cinnamon- 
colored  bare  feet  in  yellow  slippers  —  which 
I  was  afraid  would  be  enough  to  send  Aunty 
into  conniption  fits  —  she  actually  told  her, 
very  quietly,  to  take  them  off,  and  dress 
according  to  her  habits  and  her  station? 
And  you  remember  that  in  her  big,  square 
bedroom  there  is  a  praying-stool  and  a 
ghastly  crucifix,  at  least  three  feet  long,  in 
ivory  and  black,  quite  too  human  for  any 
thing  ?  Well,  when  I  offered  to  put  them 
in  the  corridor,  she  said  I '  need  n't  trouble  ' ; 
that  really  she  had  n't  noticed  them,  and 


220      THE   MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA. 

they  would  do  very  well  where  they  were. 
You  'd  think  she  had  been  accustomed  to 
this  sort  of  thing  all  her  life.  It 's  just  too 
sweet  of  her,  any  way,  even  if  she's  sham 
ming.  And  if  she  is,  she  just  does  it  to  the 
life  too,  and  could  give  those  Spanish  wo 
men  points.  Why,  she  rode  en  pillion 
on  Manuel's  mule,  behind  him,  holding  on 
by  his  sash,  across  to  the  corral  yesterday ; 
and  you  should  have  seen  Manuel  absolutely 
scrape  the  ground  before  her  with  his  som 
brero  when  he  let  her  down."  Indeed,  her 
tall,  erect  figure  in  black  lustreless  silk, 
appearing  in  a  heavily  shadowed  doorway, 
or  seated  in  a  recessed  window,  gave  a  new 
and  patrician  dignity  to  the  melancholy  of 
the  hacienda.  It  was  pleasant  to  follow 
this  quietly  ceremonious  shadow  gliding 
along  the  rose  garden  at  twilight,  halting  at 
times  to  bend  stiffly  over  the  bushes,  garden- 
shears  in  hand,  and  carrying  a  little  basket 
filled  with  withered  but  still  odorous  petals, 
as  if  she  were  grimly  gathering  the  faded 
roses  of  her  youth. 

It  was  also  probable  that  the  lively 
Cecily's  appreciation  of  her  aunt  might  have 
been  based  upon  another  virtue  of  that  lady 
—  namely,  her  exquisite  tact  in  dealing 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  HACIENDA.      221 

with  the  delicate  situation  evolved  from  the 
always  possible  relations  of  the  two  cousins. 
It  was  not  to  be  supposed  that  the  servants 
would  fail  to  invest  the  young  people  with 
Southern  romance,  and  even  believe  that  the 
situation  was  prearranged  by  the  aunt  with 
a  view  to  their  eventual  engagement.  To 
deal  with  the  problem  openly,  yet  without 
startling  the  consciousness  of  either  Dick  or 
Cecily;  to  allow  them  the  privileges  of 
children  subject  to  the  occasional  restraints 
of  childhood ;  to  find  certain  household  du 
ties  for  the  young  girl  that  kept  them  natu 
rally  apart  until  certain  hours  of  general 
relaxation  ;  to  calmly  ignore  the  meaning  of 
her  retainers'  smiles  and  glances,  and  yet  to 
good-humoredly  accept  their  interest  as  a 
kind  of  feudal  loyalty,  was  part  of  Aunt 
Viney's  deep  diplomacy.  Cecily  enjoyed  her 
freedom  and  companionship  with  Dick,  as 
she  enjoyed  the  novel  experiences  of  the  old 
house,  the  quaint,  faded  civilization  that  it 
represented,  and  the  change  and  diversion 
always  acceptable  to  youth.  She  did  not 
feel  the  absence  of  other  girls  of  her  own 
age ;  neither  was  she  aware  that  through 
this  omission  she  was  spared  the  necessity 
of  a  confidante  or  a  rival  —  both  equally 


222 

revealing  to  her  thoughtless  enjoyment. 
They  took  their  rides  together  openly  and 
without  concealment,  relating  their  adven 
tures  afterwards  to  Aunt  Viney  with  a 
naivete  and  frankness  that  dreamed  of  no 
suppression.  The  city-bred  Cecily,  accus 
tomed  to  horse  exercise  solely  as  an  orna 
mental  and  artificial  recreation,  felt  for  the 
first  time  the  fearful  joy  of  a  dash  across  a 
league-long  plain,  with  110  onlookers  but  the 
scattered  wild  horses  she  might  startle  up  to 
scurry  before  her,  or  race  at  her  side.  Small 
wonder  that,  mounted  on  her  fiery  little 
mustang,  untrammeled  by  her  short  gray 
riding-habit,  free  as  the  wind  itself  that 
blew  through  the  folds  of  her  flannel  blouse, 
with  her  brown  hair  half-loosed  beneath  her 
slouched  felt  hat,  she  seemed  to  Dick  a 
more  beautiful  and  womanly  figure  than  the 
stiff  buckramed  simulation  of  man's  an 
gularity  and  precision  he  had  seen  in  the 
parks.  Perhaps  one  day  she  detected  this 
consciousness  too  plainly  in  his  persistent 
eyes.  Up  to  that  moment  she  had  only 
watched  the  glittering  stretches  of  yellow 
grain,  in  which  occasional  wind-shorn  ever 
green  oaks  stood  mid-leg  deep  like  cattle  in 
water,  the  distant  silhouette  of  the  Sierras 


THE  MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA.      223 

against  the  steely  blue,  or  perhaps  the 
frankly  happy  face  of  the  good-looking 
young  fellow  at  her  side.  But  it  seemed  to 
her  now  that  an  intruder  had  entered  the 
field  —  a  stranger  before  whom  she  was  im 
pelled  to  suddenly  fly  —  half -laughingly, 
half-aff rightedly  —  the  anxious  Dick  follow 
ing  wonderingly  at  her  mustang's  heels, 
until  she  reached  the  gates  of  the  hacienda, 
where  she  fell  into  a  gravity  and  seriousness 
that  made  him  wonder  still  more.  He  did 
not  dream  that  his  guileless  cousin  had 
discovered,  with  a  woman's  instinct,  a  mys 
terious  invader  who  sought  to  share  their 
guileless  companionship,  only  to  absorb  it 
entirely,  and  that  its  name  was  —  love  ! 

The  next  day  she  was  so  greatly  preoccu 
pied  with  her  household  duties  that  she 
could  not  ride  with  him.  Dick  felt  unac 
countably  lost.  Perhaps  this  check  to  their 
daily  intercourse  was  no  less  accelerating  to 
his  feelings  than  the  vague  motive  that 
induced  Cecily  to  withhold  herself.  He 
moped  in  the  corridor ;  he  rode  out  alone, 
bullying  his  mustang  in  proportion  as  he 
missed  his  cousin's  gentle  companionship, 
and  circling  aimlessly,  but  still  uncon 
sciously,  around  the  hacienda  as  a  centre  of 


224      THE  MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA. 

attraction.  The  sun  at  last  was  sinking  to 
the  accompaniment  of  a  rising  wind,  which 
seemed  to  blow  and  scatter  its  broad  rays 
over  the  shimmering  plain  until  every  slight 
protuberance  was  burnished  into  startling 
brightness ;  the  shadows  of  the  short  green 
oaks  grew  disproportionally  long,  and  all 
seemed  to  point  to  the  white-walled  casa. 
Suddenly  he  started  and  instantly  reined 
up. 

The  figure  of  a  young  girl,  which  he  had 
not  before  noticed,  was  slowly  moving  down 
the  half-shadowed  lane  made  by  the  two 
walls  of  the  garden  and  the  corral.  Cecily  ! 
Perhaps  she  had  come  out  to  meet  him. 
He  spurred  forward ;  but,  as  he  came 
nearer,  he  saw  that  the  figure  and  its  attire 
were  surely  not  hers.  He  reined  up  again 
abruptly,  mortified  at  his  disappointment, 
and  a  little  ashamed  lest  he  should  have 
seemed  to  have  been  following  an  evident 
stranger.  He  vaguely  remembered,  too,  that 
there  was  a  trail  to  the  high  road,  through  a 
little  swale  clothed  with  myrtle  and  thorn 
bush  which  he  had  just  passed,  and  that  she 
was  probably  one  of  his  reserved  and  se 
cluded  neighbors  —  indeed,  her  dress,  in 
that  uncertain  light,  looked  half  Spanish. 


THE   MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA.      225 

This  was  more  confusing,  since  his  rashness 
might  have  been  taken  for  an  attempt  to 
force  an  acquaintance.  He  wheeled  and  gal 
loped  towards  the  front  of  the  casa  as  the 
figure  disappeared  at  the  angle  of  the  wall. 

"  I  don't  suppose  you  ever  see  any  of  our 
neighbors  ?  "  said  Dick  to  his  aunt  casually. 

"  I  really  can't  say,"  returned  the  lady 
with  quiet  equanimity.  "  There  were  some 
extraordinary-looking  foreigners  on  the  road 
to  San  Gregorio  yesterday.  Manuel,  who 
was  driving  me,  may  have  known  who  they 
were  —  he  is  a  kind  of  Indian  Papist  him 
self,  you  know  —  but  /  did  n't.  They 
might  have  been  relations  of  his,  for  all  I 
know." 

At  any  other  time  Dick  would  have  been 
amused  at  this  serene  relegation  of  the  lofty 
Estudillos  and  Peraltas  to  the  caste  of  the 
Indian  convert,  but  he  was  worried  to  think 
that  perhaps  Cecily  was  really  being  bored 
by  the  absence  of  neighbors.  After  dinner, 
when  they  sought  the  rose  garden,  he 
dropped  upon  the  little  lichen-scarred  stone 
bench  by  her  side.  It  was  still  warm  from 
the  sun ;  the  hot  musk  of  the  roses  filled 
the  air ;  the  whole  garden,  shielded  from 
the  cool  evening  trade  winds  by  its  high 


226      THE   MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA. 

walls,  still  kept  the  glowing  memory  of  the 
afternoon  sunshine.  Aunt  Viney,  with  her 
garden  basket  on  her  arm,  moved  ghost-like 
among  the  distant  bushes. 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  getting  bored  here  ?  " 
he  said,  after  a  slight  inconsequent  pause. 

"  Does  that  mean  that  you  are  ?  "  she  re 
turned,  raising  her  mischievous  eyes  to  his. 

"  No ;  but  I  thought  you  might  find  it 
lonely,  without  neighbors." 

"  I  stayed  in  to-day,"  she  said,  femininely 
replying  to  the  unasked  question,  "  because 
I  fancied  Aunt  Viney  might  think  it  selfish 
of  me  to  leave  her  alone  so  much." 

" But  you  are  not  lonely?  " 

Certainly  not !  The  young  lady  was  de 
lighted  with  the  whole  place,  with  the  quaint 
old  garden,  the  mysterious  corridors,  the 
restful  quiet  of  everything,  the  picture  of 
dear  Aunt  Viney  —  who  was  just  the  sweet 
est  soul  in  the  world  —  moving  about  like 
the  genius  of  the  casa.  It  was  such  a 
change  to  all  her  ideas,  she  would  never  for 
get  it.  It  was  so  thoughtful  of  him,  Dick, 
to  have  given  them  all  that  pleasure. 

"  And  the  rides,"  continued  Dick,  with 
the  untactful  pertinacity  of  the  average  man 
at  such  moments  —  "  you  are  not  tired  of 
them?" 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  HACIENDA.      227 

No  ;  she  thought  them  lovely.  Such  free 
dom  and  freshness  in  the  exercise  ;  so  differ 
ent  from  riding  in  the  city  or  at  watering- 
places,  where  it  was  one-half  show,  and  one 
was  always  thinking  of  one's  habit  or  one's 
self.  One  quite  forgot  one's  self  on  that 
lovely  plain  —  with  everything  so  far  away, 
and  only  the  mountains  to  look  at  in  the 
distance.  Nevertheless  she  did  not  lift  her 
eyes  from  the  point  of  the  little  slipper 
which  had  strayed  beyond  her  skirt. 

Dick  was  relieved,  but  not  voluble ;  he 
could  only  admiringly  follow  the  curves  of 
her  pretty  arms  and  hands,  clasped  lightly 
in  her  lap,  down  to  the  point  of  the  little 
slipper.  But  even  that  charming  vanishing 
point  was  presently  withdrawn  —  possibly 
through  some  instinct  —  for  the  young  lady 
had  apparently  not  raised  her  eyes. 

"  I  'm  so  glad  you  like  it,"  said  Dick  ear 
nestly,  yet  with  a  nervous  hesitation  that 
made  his  speech  seem  artificial  to  his  own 
ears.  "  You  see  I  —  that  is  —  I  had  an  idea 
that  you  might  like  an  occasional  change  of 
company.  It 's  a  great  pity  we  're  not  on 
speaking  terms  with  one  of  these  Spanish 
families.  Some  of  the  men,  you  know,  are 
really  fine  fellows,  with  an  old-world  cour' 
tesy  that  is  very  charming." 


228      THE  MYSTERY  OF   THE  HACIENDA. 

He  was  surprised  to  see  that  she  had  lifted 
her  head  suddenly,  with  a  quick  look  that 
however  changed  to  an  amused  and  half 
coquettish  smile. 

"  I  am  finding  no  fault  with  my  present 
company,"  she  said  demurely,  dropping  her 
head  and  eyelids  until  a  faint  suffusion 
seemed  to  follow  the  falling  lashes  over  her 
cheek.  "  I  don't  think  you  ought  to  under 
value  it." 

If  he  had  only  spoken  then !  The  hot 
scent  of  the  roses  hung  suspended  in  the 
air,  which  seemed  to  be  hushed  around  them 
in  mute  expectancy ;  the  shadows  which  were 
hiding  Aunt  Viney  from  view  were  also  clos 
ing  round  the  bench  where  they  sat.  He 
was  very  near  her ;  he  had  only  to  reach  out 
his  hand  to  clasp  hers,  which  lay  idly  in  her 
lap.  He  felt  himself  glowing  with  a  strange 
emanation;  he  even  fancied  that  she  was 
turning  mechanically  towards  him,  as  a 
flower  might  turn  towards  the  fervent  sun 
light.  But  he  could  not  speak ;  he  could 
scarcely  collect  his  thoughts,  conscious 
though  he  was  of  the  absurdity  of  his 
silence.  What  was  he  waiting  for  ?  what 
did  he  expect  ?  He  was  not  usually  bashful, 
he  was  no  coward ;  there  was  nothing  in  her 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  HACIENDA.      229 

attitude  to  make  him  hesitate  to  give  expres 
sion  to  what  he  believed  was  his  first  real 
passion.  But  he  could  do  nothing.  He 
even  fancied  that  his  face,  turned  towards 
hers,  was  stiffening  into  a  vacant  smile. 

The  young  girl  rose.  "  I  think  I  heard 
Aunt  Viney  call  me,"  she  said  constrainedly, 
and  made  a  hesitating  step  forward.  The 
spell  which  had  held  Dick  seemed  to  be 
broken  suddenly ;  he  stretched  forth  his  arm 
to  detain  her.  But  the  next  step  appeared 
to  carry  her  beyond  his  influence ;  and  it 
was  even  with  a  half  movement  of  rejection 
that  she  quickened  her  pace  and  disappeared 
down  the  path.  Dick  fell  back  dejectedly 
into  his  seat,  yet  conscious  of  a  feeling  of 
relief  that  bewildered  him. 

But  only  for  a  moment.  A  recollection 
of  the  chance  that  he  had  impotently  and 
unaccountably  thrown  away  returned  to  him. 
He  tried  to  laugh,  albeit  with  a  glowing 
cheek,  over  the  momentary  bashfulness 
which  he  thought  had  overtaken  him,  and 
which  must  have  made  him  ridiculous  in 
her  eyes.  He  even  took  a  few  hesitating 
steps  in  the  direction  of  the  path  where  she 
had  disappeared.  The  sound  of  voices  came 
to  his  ear,  and  the  light  ring  of  Cecily's 


230      THE  MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA. 

laughter.  The  color  deepened  a  little  on 
his  cheek ;  he  reentered  the  house  and  went 
to  his  room. 

The  red  sunset,  still  faintly  showing 
through  the  heavily  recessed  windows  to 
the  opposite  wall,  made  two  luminous  aisles 
through  the  darkness  of  the  long  low  apart 
ment.  From  his  easy-chair  he  watched  the 
color  drop  out  of  the  sky,  the  yellow  plain 
grow  pallid  and  seem  to  stretch  itself  to 
infinite  rest ;  then  a  black  line  began  to 
deepen  and  creep  towards  him  from  the 
horizon  edge ;  the  day  was  done.  It  seemed 
to  him  a  day  lost.  He  had  no  doubt  now  but 
that  he  loved  his  cousin,  and  the  opportunity 
of  telling  her  so  —  of  profiting  by  her  pre 
disposition  of  the  moment  —  had  passed. 
She  would  remember  herself,  she  would 
remember  his  weak  hesitancy,  she  would 
despise  him.  He  rose  and  walked  uneasily 
up  and  down.  And  yet  —  and  it  disgusted 
him  with  himself  still  more  —  he  was  again 
conscious  of  the  feeling  of  relief  he  had  be 
fore  experienced.  A  vague  formula,  "  It 's 
better  as  it  is,"  "  Who  knows  what  might 
have  come  of  it?"  he  found  himself  repeat 
ing,  without  reason  and  without  resignation. 

Ashamed  even  of  his  seclusion,  he  rose  to 


THE   MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA.      231 

join  the  little  family  circle,  which  now  habit 
ually  gathered  around  a  table  on  the  veranda 
of  the  patio  under  the  rays  of  a  swinging 
lamp  to  take  their  chocolate.  To  his  sur 
prise  the  veranda  was  empty  and  dark ;  a 
light  shining  from  the  inner  drawing-room 
showed  him  his  aunt  in  her  armchair  read 
ing,  alone.  A  slight  thrill  ran  over  him : 
Cecily  might  be  still  in  the  garden!  He 
noiselessly  passed  the  drawing-room  door, 
turned  into  a  long  corridor,  and  slipped 
through  a  grating  in  the  wall  into  the  lane 
that  separated  it  from  the  garden.  The 
gate  was  still  open ;  a  few  paces  brought 
him  into  the  long  alley  of  roses.  Their 
strong  perfume  —  confined  in  the  high,  hot 
walls  —  at  first  made  him  giddy.  This  was 
followed  by  an  inexplicable  languor;  he 
turned  instinctively  towards  the  stone  bench 
and  sank  upon  it.  The  long  rows  of  calla 
lilies  against  the  opposite  wall  looked  ghost 
like  in  the  darkness,  and  seemed  to  have 
turned  their  white  faces  towards  him.  Then 
he  fancied  that  one  had  detached  itself  from 
the  rank  and  was  moving  away.  He  looked 
again  :  surely  there  was  something  gliding 
along  the  wall !  A  quick  tremor  of  antici 
pation  passed  over  him.  It  was  Cecily,  who 


232      THE   MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA. 

had  lingered  in  the  garden  —  perhaps  to 
give  him  one  more  opportunity !  He  rose 
quickly,  and  stepped  towards  the  appari 
tion,  which  had  now  plainly  resolved  itself 
into  a  slight  girlish  figure ;  it  slipped  on  be 
neath  the  trees  ;  he  followed  quickly  —  his 
nervous  hesitancy  had  vanished  before  what 
now  seemed  to  be  a  half-coy,  half-coquettish 
evasion  of  him.  He  called  softly,  "  Cecily !  " 
but  she  did  not  heed  him ;  he  quickened  his 
pace  —  she  increased  hers.  They  were  both 
running.  She  reached  the  angle  of  the  wall 
where  the  gate  opened  upon  the  road.  Sud 
denly  she  stopped,  as  if  intentionally,  in  the 
clear  open  space  before  it.  He  could  see 
her  distinctly.  The  lace  mantle  slipped 
from  her  head  and  shoulders.  It  was  not 
Cecily ! 

But  it  was  a  face  so  singularly  beautiful 
and  winsome  that  he  was  as  quickly  arrested. 
It  was  a  woman's  deep,  passionate  eyes  and 
heavy  hair,  joined  to  a  childish  oval  of  cheek 
and  chin,  an  infantine  mouth,  and  a  little 
nose  whose  faintly  curved  outline  redeemed 
the  lower  face  from  weakness  and  brought 
it  into  charming  harmony  with  the  rest.  A 
yellow  rose  was  pinned  in  the  lustrous  black 
hair  above  the  little  ear ;  a  yellow  silk  shawl 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  HACIENDA.      233 

or  mantle,  which  had  looked  white  in  the 
shadows,  was  thrown  over  one  shoulder  and 
twisted  twice  or  thrice  around  the  plump 
but  petite  bust.  The  large  black  velvety 
eyes  were  fixed  on  his  in  half  wonder 
ment,  half  amusement ;  the  lovely  lips  were 
parted  in  half  astonishment  and  half  a  smile. 
And  yet  she  was  like  a  picture,  a  dream,  — 
a  materialization  of  one's  most  fanciful  im 
aginings,  —  like  anything,  in  fact,  but  the 
palpable  flesh  and  blood  she  evidently  was, 
standing  only  a  few  feet  before  him,  whose 
hurried  breath  he  could  see  even  now  heav 
ing  her  youthful  breast. 

His  own  breath  appeared  suspended,  al 
though  his  heart  beat  rapidly  as  he  stam 
mered  out :  "  I  beg  your  pardon  —  I  thought 
— "  He  stopped  at  the  recollection  that 
this  was  the  second  time  he  had  followed 
her. 

She  did  not  speak,  although  her  parted 
lips  still  curved  with  their  faint  coy  smile. 
Then  she  suddenly  lifted  her  right  hand, 
which  had  been  hanging  at  her  side,  clasp 
ing  some  long  black  object  like  a  stick. 
Without  any  apparent  impulse  from  her 
fingers,  the  stick  slowly  seemed  to  broaden 
in  her  little  hand  into  the  segment  of  an 


234      THE   MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA. 

opening  disk,  that,  lifting  to  her  face  and 
shoulders,  gradually  eclipsed  the  upper  part 
of  her  figure,  until,  mounting  higher,  the 
beautiful  eyes  and  the  yellow  rose  of  her 
hair  alone  remained  above  —  a  large  un 
furled  fan !  Then  the  long  eyelashes 
drooped,  as  if  in  a  mute  farewell,  and  they 
too  disappeared  as  the  fan  was  lifted  higher. 
The  half -hidden  figure  appeared  to  glide  to 
the  gateway,  lingered  for  an  instant,  and 
vanished.  The  astounded  Dick  stepped 
quickly  into  the  road,  but  fan  and  figure 
were  swallowed  up  in  the  darkness. 

Amazed  and  bewildered,  he  stood  for  a 
moment,  breathless  and  irresolute.  It  was 
no  doubt  the  same  stranger  that  he  had  seen 
before.  But  who  was  she,  and  what  was 
she  doing  there  ?  If  she  were  one  of  their 
Spanish  neighbors,  drawn  simply  by  curios 
ity  to  become  a  trespasser,  why  had  she  lin 
gered  to  invite  a  scrutiny  that  would  clearly 
identify  her?  It  was  not  the  escapade  of 
that  giddy  girl  which  the  lower  part  of  her 
face  had  suggested,  for  such  a  one  would 
have  giggled  and  instantly  flown ;  it  was 
not  the  deliberate  act  of  a  grave  woman  of 
the  world,  for  its  sequel  was  so  purpose 
less.  Why  had  she  revealed  herself  to  him 


THE  MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA.      235 

alone?  Dick  felt  himself  glowing  with  a 
half-shamed,  half-secret  pleasure.  Then  he 
remembered  Cecily,  and  his  own  purpose 
in  coming  into  the  garden.  He  hurriedly 
made  a  tour  of  the  walks  and  shrubbery, 
ostentatiously  calling  her,  yet  seeing,  as  in 
a  dream,  only  the  beautiful  eyes  of  the 
stranger  still  before  him,  and  conscious  of 
an  ill-defined  remorse  and  disloyalty  he  had 
never  known  before.  But  Cecily  was  not 
there ;  and  again  he  experienced  the  old 
sensation  of  relief ! 

He  shut  the  garden  gate,  crossed  the 
road,  and  found  the  grille  just  closing  be 
hind  a  slim  white  figure.  He  started,  for 
it  was  Cecily ;  but  even  in  his  surprise  he 
was  conscious  of  wondering  how  he  could 
have  ever  mistaken  the  stranger  for  her. 
She  appeared  startled  too ;  she  looked  pale 
and  abstracted.  Could  she  have  been  a  wit 
ness  of  his  strange  interview? 

Her  first  sentence  dispelled  the  idea. 

"  I  suppose  you  were  in  the  garden  ?  "  she 
said,  with  a  certain  timidity.  "  I  did  n't  go 
there  —  it  seemed  so  close  and  stuffy  —  but 
walked  a  little  down  the  lane." 

A  moment  before  he  would  have  eagerly 
told  her  his  adventure ;  but  in  the  presence 


236      THE   MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA. 

of  her  manifest  embarrassment  his  own  in 
creased.  He  concluded  to  tell  her  another 
time.  He  murmured  vaguely  that  he  had 
been  looking  for  her  in  the  garden,  yet  he 
had  a  flushing  sense  of  falsehood  in  his  re 
serve  ;  and  they  passed  silently  along  the 
corridor  and  entered  the  patio  together. 
She  lit  the  hanging  lamp  mechanically. 
She  certainly  was  pale ;  her  slim  hand 
trembled  slightly.  Suddenly  her  eyes  met 
his,  a  faint  color  came  into  her  cheek,  and 
she  smiled.  She  put  up  her  hand  with  a 
girlish  gesture  towards  the  back  of  her  head. 

"  What  are  you  looking  at  ?  Is  my  hair 
coming  down  ?  " 

"  No,"  hesitated  Dick,  "  but  —  I  — 
thought  —  you  were  looking  just  a  little 
pale." 

An  aggressive  ray  slipped  into  her  blue 
eyes. 

"  Strange !  I  thought  you  were.  Just 
now  at  the  grille  you  looked  as  if  the  roses 
hadn't  agreed  with  you." 

They  both  laughed,  a  little  nervously, 
and  Conchita  brought  the  chocolate.  When 
Aunt  Yiney  came  from  the  drawing-room 
she  found  the  two  young  people  together, 
and  Cecily  in  a  gale  of  high  spirits. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  HACIENDA.      237 

She  had  had  such  a  wonderfully  interest 
ing  walk,  all  by  herself,  alone  on  the  plain. 
It  was  really  so  queer  and  elfish  to  find 
one's  self  where  one  could  see  nothing  above 
or  around  one  anywhere  but  stars.  Stars 
above  one,  to  right  and  left  of  one,  and 
some  so  low  down  they  seemed  as  if  they 
were  picketed  on  the  plain.  It  was  so  odd 
to  find  the  horizon  line  at  one's  very  feet, 
like  a  castaway  at  sea.  And  the  wind !  it 
seemed  to  move  one  this  way  and  that  way, 
for  one  could  not  see  anything,  and  might 
really  be  floating  in  the  air.  Only  once  she 
thought  she  saw  something,  and  was  quite 
frightened. 

"What  was  it?"  asked  Dick  quickly. 

"  Well,  it  was  a  large  black  object ;  but 
—  it  turned  out  only  to  be  a  horse." 

She  laughed,  although  she  had  evidently 
noticed  her  cousin's  eagerness,  and  her  own 
eyes  had  a  nervous  brightness. 

"And  where  was  Dick  all  this  while?" 
asked  Aunt  Viney  quietly. 

Cecily  interrupted,  and  answered  for  him 
briskly.  "  Oh,  he  was  trying  to  make  attar 
of  rose  of  himself  in  the  garden.  He 's 
still  stupefied  by  his  own  sweetness." 

"  If  this  means,"  said  Aunt  Viney,  with 


238      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  HACIENDA. 

matter-of-fact  precision,  "  that  you  Ve  been 
gallivanting  all  alone,  Cecily,  on  that  com 
mon  plain,  where  you  're  likely  to  meet  all 
sorts  of  foreigners  and  tramps  and  savages, 
and  Heaven  knows  what  other  vermin,  I 
shall  set  my  face  against  a  repetition  of  it. 
If  you  must  go  out,  and  Dick  can't  go  with 
you  —  and  I  must  say  that  even  you  and  he 
going  out  together  there  at  night  is  n't  ex 
actly  the  kind  of  American  Christian  exam 
ple  to  set  to  our  neighbors  —  you  had  better 
get  Concepcion  to  go  with  you  and  take  a 
lantern." 

"But  there  is  nobody  one  meets  on  the 
plain  —  at  least,  nobody  likely  to  harm 
one,"  protested  Cecily. 

"  Don't  tell  me,"  said  Aunt  Viney  de 
cidedly  ;  "  have  n't  I  seen  all  sorts  of  queer 
figures  creeping  along  by  the  brink  after 
nightfall  between  San  Gregorio  and  the 
next  rancho  ?  Are  n't  they  always  skulking 
backwards  and  forwards  to  mass  and  aguar 
diente  f  " 

"And  I  don't  know  why  we  should  set 
any  example  to  our  neighbors.  We  don't 
see  much  of  them,  or  they  of  us." 

"  Of  course  not,"  returned  Aunt  Viney ; 
"because  all  proper  Spanish  young  ladies 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  HACIENDA.      239 

are  shut  up  behind  their  grilles  at  night. 
You  don't  see  them  traipsing  over  the  plain 
in  the  darkness,  with  or  without  cavaliers ! 
Why,  Don  Rafael  would  lock  one  of  his 
sisters  up  in  a  convent  and  consider  her  dis 
graced  forever,  if  he  heard  of  it." 

Dick  felt  his  cheeks  burning;  Cecily 
slightly  paled.  Yet  both  said  eagerly  to 
gether  :  "  Why,  what  do  you  know  about  it, 
Aunty?" 

"  A  great  deal,"  returned  Aunt  Viney 
quietly,  holding  her  tatting  up  to  the  light 
and  examining  the  stitches  with  a  critical 
eye.  "  I  've  got  my  eyes  about  me,  thank 
heaven !  even  if  my  ears  don't  understand 
the  language.  And  there 's  a  great  deal,  my 
dears,  that  you  young  people  might  learn 
from  these  Papists." 

"And  do  you  mean  to  say,"  continued 
Dick,  with  a  glowing  cheek  and  an  uneasy 
smile,  "that  Spanish  girls  don't  go  out 
alone?" 

"  No  young  lady  goes  out  without  her 
duenna,"  said  Aunt  Viney  emphatically. 
"  Of  course  there 's  the  Concha  variety,  that 
go  out  without  even  stockings." 

As  the  conversation  flagged  after  this,  and 
the  young  people  once  or  twice  yawned  nerv- 


240      THE  MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA. 

ously,  Aunt  Viney  thought  they  had  better 
go  to  bed. 

But  Dick  did  not  sleep.  The  beautiful 
face  beamed  out  again  from  the  darkness  of 
his  room  ;  the  light  that  glimmered  through 
his  deep-set  curtainless  windows  had  an  odd 
trick  of  bringing  out  certain  hanging  arti 
cles,  or  pieces  of  furniture,  into  a  resem 
blance  to  a  mantled  figure.  The  deep,  vel 
vety  eyes,  fringed  with  long  brown  lashes, 
again  looked  into  his  with  amused,  childlike 
curiosity.  He  scouted  the  harsh  criticisms 
of  Aunt  Viney,  even  while  he  shrank  from 
proving  to  her  her  mistake  in  the  quality  of 
his  mysterious  visitant.  Of  course  she  was 
a  lady  —  far  superior  to  any  of  her  race 
whom  he  had  yet  met.  Yet  how  should  he 
find  who  she  was  ?  His  pride  and  a  certain 
chivalry  forbade  his  questioning  the  servants 
—  before  whom  it  was  the  rule  of  the  house 
hold  to  avoid  all  reference  to  their  neigh 
bors.  He  would  make  the  acquaintance  of 
the  old  padre  —  perhaps  he  might  talk.  He 
would  ride  early  along  the  trail  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  nearest  rancho,  —  Don  Jose  Ama- 
dor's, —  a  thing  he  had  hitherto  studiously 
refrained  from  doing.  It  was  three  miles 
away.  She  must  have  come  that  distance, 


THE   MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA.      241 

but  not  alone.  Doubtless  she  had  kept  her 
duenna  in  waiting  in  the  road.  Perhaps  it 
was  she  who  had  frightened  Cecily.  Had 
Cecily  told  all  she  had  seen  ?  Her  embar 
rassed  manner  certainly  suggested  more  than 
she  had  told.  He  felt  himself  turning  hot 
with  an  indefinite  uneasiness.  Then  he  tried 
to  compose  himself.  After  all,  it  was  a 
thing  of  the  past.  The  fair  unknown  had 
bribed  the  duenna  for  once,  no  doubt  —  had 
satisfied  her  girlish  curiosity  —  she  would 
not  come  again !  But  this  thought  brought 
with  it  such  a  sudden  sense  of  utter  desola 
tion,  a  deprivation  so  new  and  startling,  that 
it  frightened  him.  Was  his  head  turned  by 
the  witcheries  of  some  black-eyed  schoolgirl 
whom  he  had  seen  but  once  ?  Or  —  he  felt 
his  cheeks  glowing  in  the  darkness  —  was  it 
really  a  case  of  love  at  first  sight,  and  she 
herself  had  been  impelled  by  the  same  yearn 
ing  that  now  possessed  him  ?  A  delicious 
satisfaction  followed,  that  left  a  smile  on  his 
lips  as  if  it  had  been  a  kiss.  He  knew  now 
why  he  had  so  strangely  hesitated  with  Ce 
cily.  He  had  never  really  loved  her  —  he 
had  never  known  what  love  was  till  now ! 

He  was  up  early  the  next  morning,  skim 
ming  the  plain  on  the  back  of  "  Chu  Chu.v 


242       THE  MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA, 

before  the  hacienda  was  stirring.  He  did 
not  want  any  one  to  suspect  his  destination, 
and  it  was  even  with  a  sense  of  guilt  that 
he  dashed  along  the  swale  in  the  direction 
of  the  Amador  rancho.  A  few  vaqueros, 
an  old  Digger  squaw  carrying  a  basket,  two 
little  Indian  acolytes  on  their  way  to  mass 
passed  him.  He  was  surprised  to  find  that 
there  were  no  ruts  of  carriage  wheels  with 
in  three  miles  of  the  casa,  and  evidently 
no  track  for  carriages  through  the  swale. 
She  must  have  come  on  horseback.  A 
broader  highway,  however,  intersected  the 
trail  at  a  point  where  the  low  walls  of  the 
Amador  rancho  came  in  view.  Here  he  was 
startled  by  the  apparition  of  an  old-fashioned 
family  carriage  drawn  by  two  large  piebald 
mules.  But  it  was  unfortunately  closed. 
Then,  with  a  desperate  audacity  new  to  his 
reserved  nature,  he  ranged  close  beside  it, 
and  even  stared  in  the  windows.  A  heavily 
mantled  old  woman,  whose  brown  face  was 
in  high  contrast  to  her  snow-white  hair,  sat 
in  the  back  seat.  Beside  her  was  a  younger 
companion,  with  the  odd  blonde  hair  and 
blue  eyes  sometimes  seen  in  the  higher  Cas- 
tilian  type.  For  an  instant  the  blue  eyes 
«aught  his,  half-coquettishly.  But  the  gir! 


THE   MYSTERY   OF   TEE   HACIENDA.      243 

was  not  at  all  like  his  mysterious  visitor,  and 
he  fell,  discomfited,  behind. 

He  had  determined  to  explain  his  trespass 
on  the  grounds  of  his  neighbor,  if  questioned, 
by  the  excuse  that  he  was  hunting  a  strayed 
mustang.  But  his  presence,  although  watched 
with  a  cold  reserve  by  the  few  peons  who 
were  lounging  near  the  gateway,  provoked 
no  challenge  from  them ;  and  he  made  a  cir 
cuit  of  the  low  adobe  walls,  with  their  barred 
windows  and  cinnamon-tiled  roofs,  without 
molestation  —  but  equally  without  satisfac 
tion.  He  felt  he  was  a  fool  for  imagining 
that  he  would  see  her  in  that  way.  He 
turned  his  horse  towards  the  little  Mission 
half  a  mile  away.  There  he  had  once  met 
the  old  padre,  who  spoke  a  picturesque  but 
limited  English;  now  he  was  only  a  few 
yards  ahead  of  him,  just  turning  into  the 
church.  The  padre  was  pleased  to  see  Don 
Bicardo  ;  it  was  an  unusual  thing  for  the 
Americanos,  he  observed,  to  be  up  so  early : 
for  himself,  he  had  his  functions,  of  course. 
No,  the  ladies  that  the  cdballero  had  seen 
had  not  been  to  mass !  They  were  Donna 
Maria  and  her  daughter,  going  to  San  Gre- 
gorio.  They  comprised  all  the  family  at  the 
rancho,  —  there  were  none  others,  unless  the 


244      THE   MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA. 

caballero,  of  a  possibility,  meant  Donna 
Inez,  a  maiden  aunt  of  sixty  —  an  admirable 
woman,  a  saint  on  earth  !  He  trusted  that 
he  would  find  his  estray ;  there  was  no  doubt 
a  mark  upon  it,  otherwise  the  plain  was  illim 
itable  ;  there  were  many  horses  —  the  world 
was  wide ! 

Dick  turned  his  face  homewards  a  little 
less  adventurously,  and  it  must  be  confessed, 
with  a  growing  sense  of  his  folly.  The  keen, 
dry  morning  air  brushed  away  his  fancies  of 
the  preceding  night ;  the  beautiful  eyes  that 
had  lured  him  thither  seemed  to  flicker  and 
be  blown  out  by  its  practical  breath.  He 
began  to  think  remorsefully  of  his  cousin,  of 
his  aunt,  —  of  his  treachery  to  that  reserve 
which  the  little  alien  household  had  main 
tained  towards  their  Spanish  neighbors.  He 
found  Aunt  Viney  and  Cecily  at  breakfast 
—  Cecily,  he  thought,  looking  a  trifle  pale. 
Yet  (or  was  it  only  his  fancy  ?)  she  seemed 
curious  about  his  morning  ride.  And  he 
became  more  reticent. 

"  You  must  see  a  good  many  of  our  neigh 
bors  when  you  are  out  so  early  ?  " 

"  Why  ?  "  he  asked  shortly,  feeling  his 
color  rise. 

"  Oh,  because  —  because  we  don't  see  them 
at  any  other  time." 


THE  MYSTERY   OF  THE  HACIENDA.      245 

"  I  saw  a  very  nice  chap  —  I  think  the 
best  of  the  lot,"  he  began,  with  assumed  joc 
ularity  ;  then,  seeing  Cecily's  eyes  suddenly 
fixed  on  him,  he  added,  somewhat  lamely, 
"  the  padre  !  There  were  also  two  women  in 
a  queer  coach." 

"  Donna  Maria  Amador,  and  Dona  Felipa 
Peralta  —  her  daughter  by  her  first  hus 
band,"  said  Aunt  Viney  quietly.  "  When 
you  see  the  horses  you  think  it 's  a  circus ; 
when  you  look  inside  the  carriage  you  know 
it 's  a  funeral." 

Aunt  Viney  did  not  condescend  to  explain 
how  she  had  acquired  her  genealogical  know 
ledge  of  her  neighbor's  family,  but  suc 
ceeded  in  breaking  the  restraint  between  the 
young  people.  Dick  proposed  a  ride  in  the 
afternoon,  which  was  cheerfully  accepted  by 
Cecily.  Their  intercourse  apparently  re 
covered  its  old  frankness  and  freedom, 
marred  only  for  a  moment  when  they  set  out 
on  the  plain.  Dick,  really  to  forget  his  pre 
occupation  of  the  morning,  turned  his  horse's 
head  away  from  the  trail,  to  ride  in  another 
direction  ;  but  Cecily  oddly,  and  with  an  ex 
hibition  of  caprice  quite  new  to  her,  insisted 
upon  taking  the  old  trail.  Nevertheless 
they  met  nothing,  and  soon  became  absorbed 


246      THE   MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA. 

in  the  exercise.  Dick  felt  something  of  h*s 
old  tenderness  return  to  this  wholesome, 
pretty  girl  at  his  side  ;  perhaps  he  betrayed 
it  in  his  voice,  or  in  an  unconscious  lingering 
by  her  bridle-rein,  but  she  accepted  it  with 
a  nai' ve  reserve  which  he  naturally  attributed 
to  the  effect  of  his  own  previous  preoccupa 
tion.  He  bore  it  so  gently,  however,  that 
it  awakened  her  interest,  and,  possibly,  her 
pique.  Her  reserve  relaxed,  and  by  the 
time  they  returned  to  the  hacienda  they 
had  regained  something  of  their  former  in 
timacy.  The  dry,  incisive  breath  of  the 
plains  swept  away  the  last  lingering  rem 
nants  of  yesterday's  illusions.  Under  this 
frankly  open  sky,  in  this  clear  perspective 
of  the  remote  Sierras,  which  admitted  no 
fanciful  deception  of  form  or  distance  — 
there  remained  nothing  but  a  strange  inci 
dent  —  to  be  later  explained  or  forgotten. 
Only  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  talk  to 
her  about  it. 

After  dinner,  and  a  decent  lingering  for 
coffee  on  the  veranda,  Dick  rose,  and  lean 
ing  half  caressingly,  half  mischievously,  over 
his  aunt's  rocking-chair,  but  with  his  eyes 
on  Cecily,  said :  — 

"I've    been     deeply    considering,    dear 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  HACIENDA.      247 

Aunty,  what  you  said  last  evening  of  the 
necessity  of  our  offering  a  good  example  to 
our  neighbors.  Now,  although  Cecily  and 
I  are  cousins,  yet,  as  I  am  head  of  the  house, 
lord  of  the  manor,  and  padron,  according 
to  the  Spanish  ideas  I  am  her  recognised 
guardian  and  protector,  and  it  seems  to  me 
it  is  my  positive  duty  to  accompany  her  if 
she  wishes  to  walk  out  this  evening." 

A  momentary  embarrassment  —  which, 
however,  changed  quickly  into  an  answering 
smile  to  her  cousin  —  came  over  Cecily's 
face.  She  turned  to  her  aunt. 

"  Well,  don't  go  too  far,"  said  that  lady 
quietly. 

When  they  closed  the  grille  behind  them 
and  stepped  into  the  lane,  Cecily  shot  a 
quick  glance  at  her  cousin. 

"  Perhaps  you  'd  rather  walk  in  the  gar 
den?" 

"  I  ?  Oh,  no,"  he  answered  honestly. 
"  But "  —  he  hesitated  —  "  would  you  ?  " 

"Yes,"  she  said  faintly. 

He  impulsively  offered  his  arm  ;  her  slim 
hand  slipped  lightly  through  it  and  rested 
on  his  sleeve.  They  crossed  the  lane  to 
gether,  and  entered  the  garden.  A  load 
appeared  to  be  lifted  from  his  heart ;  the 


248      THE   MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA, 

moment  seemed  propitious,  —  here  was  a 
chance  to  recover  his  lost  ground,  to  regain 
his  self-respect  and  perhaps  his  cousin's 
affection.  By  a  common  instinct,  however, 
they  turned  to  the  right,  and  away  from  the 
stone  bench,  and  walked  slowly  down  the 
broad  allee. 

They  talked  naturally  and  confidingly  of 
the  days  when  they  had  met  before,  of  old 
friends  they  had  known  and  changes  that 
had  crept  into  their  young  lives ;  they  spoke 
affectionately  of  the  grim,  lonely,  but  self- 
contained  old  woman  they  had  just  left,  who 
had  brought  them  thus  again  together. 
Cecily  talked  of  Dick's  studies,  of  the  scien 
tific  work  on  which  he  was  engaged,  that 
was  to  bring  him,  she  was  sure,  fame  and 
fortune!  They  talked  of  the  thoughtful 
charm  of  the  old  house,  of  its  quaint  old- 
world  flavor.  They  spoke  of  the  beauty 
of  the  night,  the  flowers  and  the  stars,  in 
whispers,  as  one  is  apt  to  do  —  as  fearing  to 
disturb  a  super-sensitiveness  in  nature. 

They  had  come  out  later  than  on  the  prej 
vious  night ;  and  the  moon,  already  risen 
above  the  high  walls  of  the  garden,  seemed 
a  vast  silver  shield  caught  in  the  interlacing 
tops  of  the  old  pear-trees,  whose  branches 


THE  MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA.      249 

crossed  its  bright  field  like  dark  bends  or 
bars.  As  it  rose  higher,  it  began  to  sepa 
rate  the  lighter  shrubbery,  and  open  white 
lanes  through  the  olive-trees.  Damp  cur 
rents  of  air,  alternating  with  drier  heats,  on 
what  appeared  to  be  different  levels,  moved 
across  the  whole  garden,  or  gave  way  at 
times  to  a  breathless  lull  and  hush  of  every 
thing,  in  which  the  long  rose  alley  seemed  to 
be  swooning  in  its  own  spices.  They  had 
reached  the  bottom  of  the  garden,  and  had 
turned,  facing  the  upper  moonlit  extremity 
and  the  bare  stone  bench.  Cecily's  voice 
faltered,  her  hand  leaned  more  heavily  on 
his  arm,  as  if  she  were  overcome  by  the 
strong  perfume.  His  right  hand  began  to 
steal  towards  hers.  But  she  had  stopped ; 
she  was  trembling. 

"  Go  on,"  she  said  in  a  half  whisper. 
"  Leave  me  a  moment ;  I  '11  join  you  after 
wards." 

"  You  are  ill,  Cecily  !  It 's  those  infernal 
flowers !  "  said  Dick  earnestly.  "  Let  me 
help  you  to  the  bench." 

"  No  —  it 's  nothing.  Go  on,  please. 
Do!  Will  you  go!" 

She  spoke  with  imperiousness,  unlike  her 
self.  He  walked  on  mechanically  a  dozen 


250      TEE   MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA. 

paces  and  turned.  She  had  disappearad^ 
He  remembered  there  was  a  smaller  gate 
opening  upon  the  plain  near  where  they  had 
stopped.  Perhaps  she  had  passed  through 
that.  He  continued  on,  slowly,  towards  the 
upper  end  of  the  garden,  occasionally  turn 
ing  to  await  her  return.  In  this  way  he 
gradually  approached  the  stone  bench.  He 
was  facing  about  to  continue  his  walk,  when 
his  heart  seemed  to  stop  beating.  The 
beautiful  visitor  of  last  night  was  sitting 
alone  on  the  bench  before  him ! 

She  had  not  been  there  a  moment  before ; 
he  could  have  sworn  it.  Yet  there  was  no 
illusion  now  of  shade  or  distance.  She  was 
scarcely  six  feet  from  him,  in  the  bright 
moonlight.  The  whole  of  her  exquisite  little 
figure  was  visible,  from  her  lustrous  hair 
down  to  the  tiny,  black  satin,  low-quartered 
slipper,  held  as  by  two  toes.  Her  face  was 
fully  revealed ;  he  could  see  even  the  few 
minute  freckles,  like  powdered  allspice, 
that  heightened  the  pale  satin  sheen  of  her 
beautifully  rounded  cheek  ;  he  could  detect 
even  the  moist  shining  of  her  parted  red 
lips,  the  white  outlines  of  her  little  teeth, 
the  length  of  her  curved  lashes,  and  the 
uieshes  of  the  black  lace  veil  that  fell  from 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  HACIENDA      251 

the  yellow  rose  above  her  ear  to  the  black 
silk  camisa  ;  he  noted  even  the  thick  yellow 
satin  saya,  or  skirt,  heavily  flounced  with 
black  lace  and  bugles,  and  that  it  was  a  dif 
ferent  dress  from  that  worn  on  the  preced 
ing  night,  a  half -gala  costume,  carried  with 
the  indescribable  air  of  a  woman  looking  her 
best  and  pleased  to  do  so:  all  this  he  had 
noted,  drawing  nearer  and  nearer,  until 
near  enough  to  forget  it  all  and  drown  him 
self  in  the  depths  of  her  beautiful  eyes. 
For  they  were  no  longer  childlike  and  won 
dering  :  they  were  glowing  with  expectancy, 
anticipation  —  love ! 

He  threw  himself  passionately  on  the  bench 
beside  her.  Yet,  even  if  he  had  known  her 
language,  he  could  not  have  spoken.  She 
leaned  towards  him;  their  eyes  seemed  to 
meet  caressingly,  as  in  an  embrace.  Her 
little  hand  slipped  from  the  yellow  folds  of 
her  skirt  to  the  bench.  He  eagerly  seized 
it.  A  subtle  thrill  ran  through  his  whole 
frame.  There  was  no  delusion  here  ;  it  was 
flesh  and  blood,  warm,  quivering,  and  even 
tightening  round  his  own.  He  was  about 
to  carry  it  to  his  lips,  when  she  rose  and 
stepped  backwards.  He  pressed  eagerly 
forward.  Another  backward  step  brought 


252      THE   MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA 

her  to  the  pear-tree,  where  she  seemed  to 
plunge  into  its  shadow.  Dick  Bracy  fol 
lowed —  and  the  same  shadow  seemed  to 
fold  them  in  its  embrace. 

He  did  not  return  to  the  veranda  and 
chocolate  that  evening,  but  sent  word  from 
his  room  that  he  had  retired,  not  feeling 
well. 

Cecily,  herself  a  little  nervously  exalted, 
corroborated  the  fact  of  his  indisposition  by 
telling  Aunt  Viney  that  the  close  odors  of 
the  rose  garden  had  affected  them  both. 
Indeed,  she  had  been  obliged  to  leave  before 
him.  Perhaps  in  waiting  for  her  return  — 
and  she  really  was  not  well  enough  to  go 
back  —  he  was  exposed  to  the  night  air  too 
long.  She  was  very  sorry. 

Aunt  Viney  heard  this  with  a  slight  con 
traction  of  her  brows  and  a  renewed  scrutiny 
of  her  knitting ;  and,  having  satisfied  her 
self  by  a  personal  visit  to  Dick's  room  that 
he  was  not  alarmingly  ill,  set  herself  to  find 
out  what  was  really  the  matter  with  the 
young  people ;  for  there  was  no  doubt  that 
Cecily  was  in  some  vague  way  as  disturbed 
and  preoccupied  as  Dick.  He  rode  out 
again  early  the  next  morning,  returning  to 


THE   MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA.      253 

his  studies  in  the  library  directly  after 
breakfast ;  and  Cecily  was  equally  reticent, 
except  when,  to  Aunt  Viney's  perplexity,  she 
found  excuses  for  Dick's  manner  on  the 
ground  of  his  absorption  in  his  work,  and 
that  he  was  probably  being  bored  by  want 
of  society.  She  proposed  that  she  should 
ask  an  old  schoolfellow  to  visit  them. 

"It  would  give  Dick  a  change  of  ideas, 
and  he  would  not  be  perpetually  obliged  to 
look  so  closely  after  me."  She  blushed 
slightly  under  Aunt  Viney's  gaze,  and  added 
hastily,  "  I  mean,  of  course,  he  would  not 
feel  it  his  duty" 

She  even  induced  her  aunt  to  drive  with 
her  to  the  old  mission  church,  where  she  dis 
played  a  pretty  vivacity  and  interest  in  the 
people  they  met,  particularly  a  few  youthful 
and  picturesque  caballeros.  Aunt  Viney 
smiled  gravely.  "Was  the  poor  child  develop 
ing  an  unlooked-for  coquetry,  or  preparing 
to  make  the  absent-minded  Dick  jealous? 
Well,  the  idea  was  not  a  bad  one.  In  the 
evening  she  astonished  the  two  cousins  by 
offering  to  accompany  them  into  the  garden 
—  a  suggestion  accepted  with  eager  and 
effusive  politeness  by  each,  but  carried  out 
with  great  awkwardness  by  the  distrait 


254      THE   MYSTERY   OF   THE  HACIENDA. 

young  people  later.  Aunt  Viney  clearly 
saw  that  it  was  not  her  presence  that  was 
required.  In  this  way  two  or  three  days 
elapsed  without  apparently  bringing  the  re 
lations  of  Dick  and  Cecily  to  any  more 
satisfactory  conclusion.  The  diplomatic 
Aunt  Yiney  confessed  herself  puzzled. 

One  night  it  was  very  warm ;  the  usual 
trade  winds  had  died  away  before  sunset, 
leaving  an  unwonted  hush  in  sky  and  plain. 
There  was  something  so  portentous  in  this 
sudden  withdrawal  of  that  rude  stimulus  to 
the  otherwise  monotonous  level,  that  a  re 
currence  of  such  phenomena  was  always 
known  as  "  earthquake  weather."  The  wild 
cattle  moved  uneasily  in  the  distance  with 
out  feeding;  herds  of  unbroken  mustangs 
approached  the  confines  of  the  hacienda  in 
vague  timorous  squads.  The  silence  and 
stagnation  of  the  old  house  was  oppressive, 
as  if  the  life  had  really  gone  out  of  it  at 
last ;  and  Aunt  Viney,  after  waiting  impa 
tiently  for  the  young  people  to  come  in  to 
chocolate,  rose  grimly,  set  her  lips  together, 
and  went  out  into  the  lane.  The  gate  of 
the  rose  garden  opposite  was  open.  She 
walked  determinedly  forward  and  entered. 

In  that  doubly  stagnant  air  the  odor  of 


THE  MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA.      255 

the  roses  was  so  suffocating  and  overpower 
ing  that  she  had  to  stop  to  take  breath. 
The  whole  garden,  except  a  near  cluster  of 
pear-trees,  was  brightly  illuminated  by  the 
moonlight.  No  one  was  to  be  seen  along 
the  length  of  the  broad  allee,  strewn  an  inch 
deep  with  scattered  red  and  yellow  petals  — 
colorless  in  the  moonbeams.  She  was  turn 
ing  away,  when  Dick's  familiar  voice,  but 
with  a  strange  accent  of  entreaty  in  it,  broke 
the  silence.  It  seemed  to  her  vaguely  to 
come  from  within  the  pear-tree  shadow. 

"  But  we  must  understand  one  another, 
my  darling!  Tell  me  all.  This  suspense, 
this  mystery,  this  brief  moment  of  happiness, 
and  these  hours  of  parting  and  torment,  are 
killing  me !  " 

A  slight  cough  broke  from  Aunt  Viney. 
She  had  heard  enough  —  she  did  not  wish 
to  hear  more.  The  mystery  was  explained. 
Dick  loved  Cecily ;  the  coyness  or  hesitation 
was  not  on  his  part.  Some  idiotic  girlish 
caprice,  quite  inconsistent  with  what  she 
had  noticed  at  the  mission  church,  was  keep 
ing  Cecily  silent,  reserved,  and  exasperating 
to  her  lover.  She  would  have  a  talk  with 
the  young  lady,  without  revealing  the  fact 
that  she  had  overheard  them.  She  was  per- 


256      THE   MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA. 

haps  a  little  hurt  that  affairs  should  have 
reached  this  point  without  some  show  of 
confidence  to  her  from  the  young  people. 
Dick  might  naturally  be  reticent  —  but 
Cecily! 

She  did  not  even  look  towards  the  pear- 
tree,  but  turned  and  walked  stiffly  out  of 
the  gate.  As  she  was  crossing  the  lane  she 
suddenly  started  back  in  utter  dismay  and 
consternation !  For  Cecily,  her  niece,  —  in 
her  own  proper  person, — was  actually  just 
coming  out  of  the  house  ! 

Aunt  Viney  caught  her  wrist.  "  Where 
have  you  been  ?  "  she  asked  quickly. 

"In  the  house,"  stammered  Cecily,  with 
a  frightened  face. 

"  You  have  not  been  in  the  garden  with 
Dick?"  continued  Aunt  Viney  sharply  — 
yet  with  a  hopeless  sense  of  the  impossibil 
ity  of  the  suggestion. 

"No,  I  was  not  even  going  there.  I 
thought  of  just  strolling  down  the  lane." 

The  girl's  accents  were  truthful ;  more 
than  that,  she  absolutely  looked  relieved 
by  her  aunt's  question.  "  Do  you  want  me, 
Aunty  ?  "  she  added  quickly. 

"  Yes  —  no.  Run  away,  then  —  but  don't 
go  far." 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  HACIENDA.      257 

At  any  other  time  Aunt  Viney  might  have 
wondered  at  the  eagerness  with  which  Cecily 
tripped  away ;  now  she  was  only  anxious  to 
get  rid  of  her.  She  entered  the  casa  hur 
riedly. 

"  Send  Josefa  to  me  at  once,"  she  said  to 
Manuel. 

Josefa,  the  housekeeper,  —  a  fat  Mexican 
woman,  —  appeared.  "  Send  Concha  and  the 
other  maids  here."  They  appeared,  mutely 
wondering.  Aunt  Viney  glanced  hurriedly 
over  them — rthey  were  all  there  —  a  few 
comely,  but  not  too  attractive,  and  all  stu 
pidly  complacent.  "Have  you  girls  any 
friends  here  this  evening  —  or  are  you  ex 
pecting  any  ?  "  she  demanded.  Of  a  surety, 
no !  —  as  the  padrona  knew  —  it  was  not 
night  for  church.  "  Very  well,"  returned 
Aunt  Viney ;  "  I  thought  I  heard  your  voices 
in  the  garden ;  understand,  I  want  no  galli 
vanting  there.  Go  to  bed." 

She  was  relieved!  Dick  certainly  was 
not  guilty  of  a  low  intrigue  with  one  of  the 
maids.  But  who  and  what  was  she  ? 

Dick  was  absent  again  from  chocolate ; 
there  was  unfinished  work  to  do.  Cecily 
came  in  later,  just  as  Aunt  Viney  was  be 
ginning  to  be  anxious.  Had  she  appeared 


258      THE  MYSTERY   OF  THE  HACIENDA. 

distressed  or  piqued  by  her  cousin's  conduct, 
Aunt  Viney  might  have  spoken ;  but  there 
was  a  pretty  color  on  her  cheek  —  the  re 
sult,  she  said,  of  her  rapid  walking,  and  the 
fresh  air  ;  did  Aunt  Viney  know  that  a  cool 
breeze  had  just  risen?  —  and  her  delicate 
lips  were  wreathed  at  times  in  a  faint  retro 
spective  smile.  Aunt  Viney  stared ;  cer 
tainly  the  girl  was  not  pining !  What  young 
people  were  made  of  now-a-days  she  really 
could  n't  conceive.  She  shrugged  her  shoul 
ders  and  resumed  her  tatting. 

Nevertheless,  as  Dick's  unfinished  studies 
seemed  to  have  whitened  his  cheek  and  im 
paired  his  appetite  the  next  morning,  she  an 
nounced  her  intention  of  driving  out  towards 
the  mission  alone.  When  she  returned  at 
luncheon  she  further  astonished  the  young 
people  by  casually  informing  them  they 
would  have  Spanish  visitors  to  dinner  — 
namely,  their  neighbors,  Donna  Maria  Ama- 
dor  and  the  Dona  Felipa  Peralta. 

Both  faces  were  turned  eagerly  towards 
her;  both  said  almost  in  the  same  breath, 
"  But,  Aunt  Viney  !  you  don't  know  them ! 
However  did  you —  What  does  it  all 
mean?" 

"My  dears,"  said   Aunt  Viney  placidly, 


THE  MYSTERY   OF  THE  HACIENDA.      259 

"  Mrs.  Amador  and  I  have  always  nodded  to 
each  other,  and  I  knew  they  were  only  wait 
ing  for  the  slightest  encouragement.  I  gave 
it,  and  they  're  coming." 

It  was  difficult  to  say  whether  Cecily's  or 
Dick's  face  betrayed  the  greater  delight  and 
animation.  Aunt  Viney  looked  from  the 
one  to  the  other.  It  seemed  as  if  her  attempt 
at  diversion  had  been  successful. 

"  Tell  us  all  about  it,  you  dear,  clever,  art 
ful  Aunty !  "  said  Cecily  gayly. 

"  There 's  nothing  whatever  to  tell,  my 
love!  It  seems,  however,  that  the  young 
one,  Dona  Felipa,  has  seen  Dick,  and  re 
members  him."  She  shot  a  keen  glance  at 
Dick,  but  was  obliged  to  admit  that  the  ras 
cal's  face  remained  unchanged.  "And  I 
wanted  to  bring  a  cavalier  for  you,  dear,  but 
Don  Jose's  nephew  is  n't  at  home  now." 
Yet  here,  to  her  surprise,  Cecily  was  faintly 
blushing. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  the  piebald  horses 
and  dark  brown  chariot  of  the  Amadors  drew 
up  before  the  gateway.  The  young  people 
were  delighted  with  Dona  Felipa,  and  thought 
her  blue  eyes  and  tawny  hair  gave  an  added 
piquancy  to  her  colorless  satin  skin  and 
otherwise  distinctively  Spanish  face  and 


260      THE   MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA, 

figure.  Aunt  Viney,  who  entertained  Donna 
Maria,  was  nevertheless  watchful  of  the 
others  ;  but  failed  to  detect  in  Dick's  effu 
sive  greeting,  or  the  Dona's  coquettish  smile 
of  recognition,  any  suggestion  of  previous 
confidences.  It  was  rather  to  Cecily  that 
Dona  Felipa  seemed  to  be  characteristically 
exuberant  and  childishly  feminine.  Both 
mother  and  stepdaughter  spoke  a  musical 
infantine  English,  which  the  daughter  sup 
plemented  with  her  eyes,  her  eyebrows,  her 
little  brown  fingers,  her  plump  shoulders,  a 
dozen  charming  intonations  of  voice,  and  a 
complete  vocabulary  in  her  active  and  em 
phatic  fan. 

The  young  lady  went  over  the  house  with 
Cecily  curiously,  as  if  recalling  some  old 
memories.  "  Ah,  yes,  I  remember  it  —  but 
it  was  long  ago  and  I  was  very  leetle  —  you 
comprehend,  and  I  have  not  arrive  mooch 
when  the  old  Don  was  alone.  It  was  too  — 
too  —  what  you  call  melank-oaly.  And  the 
old  man  have  not  make  mooch  to  himself  of 
company." 

"  Then  there  were  no  young  people  in  the 
house,  I  suppose  ?  "  said  Cecily,  smiling. 

"No  —  not  since  the  old  man's  father  lif. 
Then  there  were  two.  It  is  a  good  number, 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  HACIENDA.      261 

this  two,  eh?"  She  gave  a  single  gesture, 
which  took  in,  with  Cecily,  the  distant  Dick, 
and  with  a  whole  volume  of  suggestion  in 
her  shoulders,  and  twirling  fan,  continued : 
"  Ah  !  two . sometime  make  one — is  it  not? 
But  not  then  in  the  old  time  —  ah,  no !  It 
is  a  sad  story.  I  shall  tell  it  to  you  some 
time,  but  not  to  him." 

But  Cecily's  face  betrayed  no  undue  bash 
ful  consciousness,  and  she  only  asked,  with 
a  quiet  smile,  "  Why  not  to  —  to  my 
cousin  ?  " 

"  Imbecile  I "  responded  that  lively  young 
lady. 

After  dinner  the  young  people  proposed 
to  take  Dona  Felipa  into  the  rose  garden, 
while  Aunt  Viney  entertained  Donna  Maria 
on  the  veranda.  The  young  girl  threw  up 
her  hands  with  an  affectation  of  horror. 
"  Santa  Maria !  —  in  the  rose  garden  ? 
After  the  Angelus,  you  and  him?  Have 
you  not  heard  ?  " 

But  here  Donna  Maria  interposed.  Ah  ! 
Santa  Maria!  What  was  all  that!  Was 
it  not  enough  to  talk  old  woman's  gossip  and 
tell  vaqueros  tales  at  home,  without  making 
uneasy  the  strangers  ?  She  would  have  none 
of  it.  "  Vamos  I " 


262      THE  MYSTERY   OF   TEE   HACIENDA. 

Nevertheless  Dona  Felipa  overcame  her 
horror  of  the  rose  garden  at  infelicitous 
hours,  so  far  as  to  permit  herself  to  be  con 
ducted  by  the  cousins  into  it,  and  to  be  in 
stalled  like  a  rose  queen  on  the  stone  bench, 
while  Dick  and  Cecily  threw  themselves  in 
submissive  and  imploring  attitudes  at  her 
little  feet.  The  young  girl  looked  mischie 
vously  from  one  to  the  other. 

"  It  ees  very  pret-ty,  but  all  the  same  I  am 
not  a  rose  :  I  am  what  you  call  a  big  goose 
berry  !  Eh  —  is  it  not  ?  " 

The  cousins  laughed,  but  without  any 
embarrassed  consciousness.  "Doiia  Felipa 
knows  a  sad  story  of  this  house,"  said  Cecily ; 
"  but  she  will  not  tell  it  before  you,  Dick." 

Dick,  looking  up  at  the  coquettish  little 
figure,  with  Heaven  knows  what  other  mem 
ories  in  his  mind,  implored  and  protested. 

"  Ah !  but  this  little  story  —  she  ees  not  so 
mooch  sad  of  herself  as  she  ees  str-r-r-ange !  " 
She  gave  an  exaggerated  little  shiver  under 
her  lace  shawl,  and  closed  her  eyes  medita 
tively. 

"  Go  on,"  said  Dick,  smiling  in  spite  of 
his  interested  expectation. 

Dona  Felipa  took  her  fan  in  both  hands, 
spanning  her  knees,  leaned  forward,  and 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  HACIENDA.      263 

after  a  preliminary  compressing  of  her  lips 
and  knitting  of  her  brows,  said :  — 

"  It  was  a  long  time  ago.  Don  Gregorio 
he  have  his  daughter  Rosita  here,  and  for 
her  he  will  fill  all  thees  rose  garden  and  gif 
to  her;  for  she  like  mooch  to  lif  with  the 
rose.  She  ees  very  pret-ty.  You  shall  have 
seen  her  picture  here  in  the  casa.  No  ?  It 
have  hang  under  the  crucifix  in  the  corner 
room,  turn  around  to  the  wall  —  why,  you 
shall  comprehend  when  I  have  made  finish 
thees  story.  Comes  to  them  here  one  day 
Don  Vincente,  Don  Gregorio's  nephew,  to 
lif  when  his  father  die.  He  was  yong,  a 
pollio  —  same  as  Rosita.  They  were  mooch 
together ;  they  have  make  lofe.  What  will 
you  ?  —  it  ees  always  the  same.  The  Don 
Gregorio  have  comprehend;  the  friends 
have  all  comprehend ;  in  a  year  they  will 
make  marry.  Dona  Rosita  she  go  to  Mon 
terey  to  see  his  family.  There  ees  an  Eng 
lish  warship  come  there ;  and  Rosita  she  ees 
very  gay  with  the  officers,  and  make  the  flir 
tation  very  mooch.  Then  Don  Vincente  he 
is  onhappy,  and  he  revenge  himself  to  make 
lofe  with  another.  When  Rosita  come  back 
it  is  very  miserable  for  them  both,  but  they 
say  nossing.  The  warship  he  have  gone 


264       THE   MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA. 

away ;  the  other  girl  Vincente  he  go  not  to 
no  more.  All  the  same,  Rosita  and  Vincente 
are  very  triste,  and  the  family  will  not  know 
what  to  make.  Then  Rosita  she  is  sick  and 
eat  nossing,  and  walk  to  herself  all  day  iu 
the  rose  garden,  until  she  is  as  white  and 
fade  away  as  the  rose.  And  Vincente  he 
eat  nossing,  but  drink  mooch  aguardiente. 
Then  he  have  fever  and  go  dead.  And  Ro 
sita  she  have  fainting  and  fits ;  and  one  day 
they  have  look  for  her  in  the  rose  garden, 
and  she  is  not !  And  they  poosh  and  poosh 
in  the  ground  for  her,  and  they  find  her  with 
so  mooch  rose-leaves  —  so  deep  —  on  top  of 
her.  She  has  go  dead.  It  is  a  very  sad 
story,  and  when  you  hear  it  you  are  very, 
very  mooch  dissatisfied." 

It  is  to  be  feared  that  the  two  Americans 
were  not  as  thrilled  by  this  sad  recital  as 
the  fair  narrator  had  expected,  and  even 
Dick  ventured  to  point  out  that  those  sort 
of  things  happened  also  to  his  countrymen, 
and  were  not  peculiar  to  the  casa. 

"  But  you  said  that  there  was  a  terrible 
sequel,"  suggested  Cecily  smilingly :  "  tell 
us  that.  Perhaps  Mr.  Bracy  may  receive  it 
a  little  more  politely." 

An   expression  of   superstitious   gravity, 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  HACIENDA.      265 

half  real,  half  simulated,  came  over  Dona 
Felipa's  face,  although  her  vivacity  of  ges 
ticulation  and  emphasis  did  not  relax.  She 
cast  a  hurried  glance  around  her,  and  leaned 
a  little  forward  towards  the  cousins. 

"  When  there  are  no  more  young  people 
in  the  casa  because  they  are  dead,"  she  con- 
tinned,  in  a  lower  voice,  "Don  Gregorio  he 
is  very  melank-oaly,  and  he  have  no  more 
company  for  many  years.  Then  there  was 
a  rodeo  near  the  hacienda,  and  there  came 
five  or  six  cdballeros  to  stay  with  him  for 
the  feast.  Notabilimente  comes  then  Don 
Jorge  Martinez.  He  is  a  bad  man  —  so 
weeked  —  a  Don  Juan  for  making  lofe  to 
the  ladies.  He  lounge  in  the  garden,  he 
smoke  his  cigarette,  he  twist  the  moustache 
—  so !  One  day  he  came  in,  and  he  laugh 
and  wink  so  and  say,  '  Oh,  the  weeked,  sly 
Don  Gregorio !  He  have  hid  away  in  the 
casa  a  beautiful,  pret-ty  girl,  and  he  will 
nossing  say.'  And  the  other  caballeros  say, 
*  Mira !  what  is  this  ?  there  is  not  so  mooch 
as  one  young  lady  in  the  casa.'  And  Don 
Jorge  he  wink,  and  he  say,  '  Imbeciles ! 
pigs ! '  And  he  walk  in  the  garden  and 
twist  his  moustache  more  than  ever.  And 
one  day,  behold !  he  walk  into  the  casa, 


266      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  HACIENDA. 

very  white  and  angry,  and  he  swear  mooch 
to  himself ;  and  he  orders  his  horse,  and  he 
ride  away,  and  never  come  back  no  more, 
never-r-r  !  And  one  day  another  cdballero^ 
Don  Esteban  Briones,  he  came  in,  and  say, 
4  Hola !  Don  Jorge  has  forgotten  his  pret-ty 
girl:  he  have  left  her  over  on  the  garden 
bench.  Truly  I  have  seen.'  And  they  say, 
'  We  will  too.'  And  they  go,  and  there  is 
nossing.  And  they  say, '  Imbecile  and  pig ! ' 
But  he  is  not  imbecile  and  pig ;  for  he  has 
seen,  and  Don  Jorge  has  seen;  and  why? 
For  it  is  not  a  girl,  but  what  you  call  her  — 
a  ghost !  And  they  will  that  Don  Esteban 
should  make  a  picture  of  her  —  a  design ; 
and  he  make  one.  And  old  Don  Gregorio 
he  say,  *  Madre  de  Diosf  it  is  Rosita' — 
the  same  that  hung  under  the  crucifix  in  the 
big  room." 

"And  is  that  all?"  asked  Dick,  with  a 
somewhat  pronounced  laugh,  but  a  face  that 
looked  quite  white  in  the  moonlight. 

"  No,  it  ees  not  all.  For  when  Don  Gre 
gorio  got  himself  more  company  another  time 
—  it  ees  all  yonge  ladies,  and  my  aunt  she 
is  invite  too ;  for  she  was  yonge  then,  and 
she  herself  have  tell  to  me  this :  — 

"  One  night  she  is  in  the  garden  with  the 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  HACIENDA.      267 

other  girls,  and  when  they  want  to  go  in  the 
casa  one  have  say,  'Where  is  Francisca 
Pacheco?  Look,  she  came  here  with  us, 
and  now  she  is  not.'  Another  one  say, 
'  She  have  conceal  herself  to  make  us  af 
fright.'  And  my  aunt  she  say,  '  I  will  go 
seek  that  I  shall  find  her.'  And  she  go. 
And  when  she  came  to  the  pear-tree,  she 
heard  Francisca's  voice,  and  it  say  to  some 
one  she  see  not,  'Fly!  vamosf  some  one 
have  come.'  And  then  she  come  at  the  mo 
ment  upon  Francisca,  very  white  and  trem 
bling,  and  —  alone.  And  Francisca  she 
have  run  away  and  say  nossing,  and  shut 
herself  in  her  room.  And  one  of  the  other 
girls  say :  '  It  is  the  handsome  caballero 
with  the  little  black  moustache  and  sad 
white  face  that  I  have  seen  in  the  garden 
that  make  this.  It  is  truly  that  he  is  some 
poor  relation  of  Don  Gregorio,  or  some  mad 
kinsman  that  he  will  not  we  should  know.' 
And  my  aunt  ask  Don  Gregorio ;  for  she  is 
yonge.  And  he  have  say :  '  What  silly  fool 
ees  thees  ?  There  is  not  one  caballero  here, 
but  myself.'  And  when  the  other  young 
girl  have  tell  to  him  how  the  caballero  look, 
he  say:  'The  saints  save  us!  I  cannot 
more  say.  It  ees  Don  Vincente,  who  haf 


268      THE   MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA. 

gone  dead.'  And  he  cross  himself,  and  — 
But  look !  Madre  de  Dios  !  Mees  Cecily, 
you  are  ill  —  you  are  affrighted.  I  am  a 
gabbling  fool!  Help  her,  Don  Bicardo; 
she  is  falling  !  " 

But  it  was  too  late :  Cecily  had  tried  to 
rise  to  her  feet,  had  staggered  forward  and 
fallen  in  a  faint  on  the  bench. 

Dick  did  not  remember  how  he  helped 
to  carry  the  insensible  Cecily  to  the  casa, 
nor  what  explanation  he  had  given  to  the 
alarmed  inmates  of  her  sudden  attack.  He 
recalled  vaguely  that  something  had  been 
said  of  the  overpowering  perfumes  of  the 
garden  at  that  hour,  that  the  lively  Felipa 
had  become  half  hysterical  in  her  remorse 
ful  apologies,  and  that  Aunt  Viney  had 
ended  the  scene  by  carrying  Cecily  into  her 
own  room,  where  she  presently  recovered  a 
still  trembling  but  reticent  consciousness. 
But  the  fainting  of  his  cousin  and  the  pres 
ence  of  a  real  emergency  had  diverted  his 
imagination  from  the  vague  terror  that  had 
taken  possession  of  it,  and  for  the  moment 
enabled  him  to  control  himself.  With  a 
desperate  effort  he  managed  to  keep  up  a 
show  of  hospitable  civility  to  his  Spanish 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  HACIENDA.      269 

friends  until  their  early  departure.  Then 
he  hurried  to  his  own  room.  So  bewildered 
and  horrified  he  had  become,  and  a  prey  to 
such  superstitious  terrors,  that  he  could  not 
at  that  moment  bring  himself  to  the  test  of 
looking  for  the  picture  of  the  alleged  Rosita, 
which  might  still  be  hanging  in  his  aunt's 
room.  If  it  were  really  the  face  of  his  mys 
terious  visitant  —  in  his  present  terror  —  he 
felt  that  his  reason  might  not  stand  the 
shock.  He  would  look  at  it  to-morrow., 
when  he  was  calmer !  Until  then  he  would 
believe  that  the  story  was  some  strange  coin 
cidence  with  what  must  have  been  his  hallu 
cination,  or  a  vulgar  trick  to  which  he  had 
fallen  a  credulous  victim.  Until  then  he 
would  believe  that  Cecily's  fright  had  been 
only  the  effect  of  Dofia  Felipa's  story,  act 
ing  upon  a  vivid  imagination,  and  not  a 
terrible  confirmation  of  something  she  had 
herself  seen.  He  threw  himself,  without 
undressing,  upon  his  bed  in  a  benumbing 
agony  of  doubt. 

The  gentle  opening  of  his  door  and  the 
slight  rustle  of  a  skirt  started  him  to  his 
feet  with  a  feeling  of  new  and  overpowering 
repulsion.  But  it  was  a  familiar  figure  that 
he  saw  in  the  long  aisle  of  light  which  led 


270      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  HACIENDA. 

from  his  recessed  window,  whose  face  was 
white  enough  to  have  been  a  spirit's,  and 
whose  finger  was  laid  upon  its  pale  lips,  as 
it  softly  closed  the  door  behind  it. 

"Cecily!" 

"  Hush ! "  she  said,  in  a  distracted  whis 
per:  "I  felt  I  must  see  you  to-night.  I 
oould  not  wait  until  day — no,  not  another 
hour!  I  could  not  speak  to  you  before 
them.  I  could  not  go  into  that  dreadful 
garden  again,  or  beyond  the  walls  of  this 
house.  Dick,  I  want  to  —  I  must  tell  you 
something !  I  would  have  kept  it  from 
every  one  —  from  you  most  of  all !  I  know 
you  will  hate  me,  and  despise  me ;  but, 
Dick,  listen !  "  —  she  caught  his  hand  de 
spairingly,  drawing  it  towards  her  —  "that 
girl's  awful  story  was  true !  "  She  threw 
his  hand  away. 

"  And  you  have  seen  her  1  "  said  Dick, 
frantically.  "  Good  God !  " 

The  young  girl's  manner  changed.  "Her  I " 
she  said,  half  scornfully,  "  you  don't  suppose 
I  believe  that  story?  No.  I  —  I  —  don't 
blame  me,  Dick,  —  I  have  seen  him." 

"Him?" 

She  pushed  him  nervously  into  a  seat,  and 
sat  down  beside  him.  In  the  half  light  of 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  HACIENDA.      271 

the  moon,  despite  her  pallor  and  distraction, 
she  was  still  very  human,  womanly,  and  at 
tractive  in  her  disorder. 

"  Listen  to  me,  Dick.  Do  you  remember 
one  afternoon,  when  we  were  riding  to 
gether,  I  got  ahead  of  you,  and  dashed  off 
to  the  casa.  I  don't  know  what  possessed 
me,  or  why  I  did  it.  I  only  know  I  wanted 
to  get  home  quickly,  and  get  away  from  you. 
No,  I  was  not  angry,  Dick,  at  you;  it  did 
not  seem  to  be  that ;  I  —  well,  I  confess  I 
was  frightened  —  at  something,  I  don't 
know  what.  When  I  wheeled  round  into 
the  lane,  I  saw  —  a  man  —  a  young  gentle 
man  standing  by  the  garden- wall.  He  was 
very  picturesque-looking,  in  his  red  sash, 
velvet  jacket,  and  round  silver  buttons; 
handsome,  but  oh,  so  pale  and  sad!  He 
looked  at  me  very  eagerly,  and  then  sud 
denly  drew  back,  and  I  heard  you  on  Chu 
Chu  coming  at  my  heels.  You  must  have 
seen  him  and  passed  him  too,  I  thought :  but 
when  you  said  nothing  of  it,  I — I  don't 
know  why,  Dick,  I  said  nothing  of  it  too. 
Don't  speak !  "  she  added,  with  a  hurried 
gesture :  "  I  know  now  why  you  said  no 
thing,  —  you  had  not  seen  him." 

She  stopped,  and  put  back  a  wisp  of  her 
disordered  chestnut  hair. 


272      THE  MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA. 

"The  next  time  was  the  night  you  were 
so  queer,  Dick,  sitting  on  that  stone  bench. 
When  I  left  you  —  I  thought  you  did  n't 
care  to  have  me  stay  —  I  went  to  seek  Aunt 
Viney  at  the  bottom  of  the  garden.  I  was 
very  sad,  but  suddenly  I  found  myself  very 
gay,  talking  and  laughing  with  her  in  a 
way  I  could  not  account  for.  All  at  once, 
looking  up,  I  saw  him  standing  by  the  little 
gate,  looking  at  me  very  sadly.  I  think  I 
would  have  spoken  to  Aunt  Viney,  but  he 
put  his  finger  to  his  lips  —  his  hand  was  so 
slim  and  white,  quite  like  a  hand  in  one  of 
those  Spanish  pictures  —  and  moved  slowly 
backwards  into  the  laae,  as  if  he  wished  to 
speak  with  me  only  —  out  there.  I  know  I 
ought  to  have  spoken  to  Aunty ;  I  knew  it 
was  wrong  what  I  did,  but  he  looked  so 
earnest,  so  appealing,  so  awfully  sad,  Dick, 
that  I  slipped  past  Aunty  and  went  out 
of  the  gate.  Just  then  she  missed  me,  and 
called.  He  made  a  kind  of  despairing  ges 
ture,  raising  his  hand  Spanish  fashion  to  his 
lips,  as  if  to  say  good-night.  You  '11  think 
me  bold,  Dick,  but  I  was  so  anxious  to  know 
what  it  all  meant,  that  I  gave  a  glance  be 
hind  to  see  if  Aunty  was  following,  before  I 
should  go  right  up  to  him  and  demand  an 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  HACIENDA.       273 

explanation.  But  when  I  faced  round 
again,  he  was  gone!  I  walked  up  and 
down  the  lane  and  out  on  the  plain  nearly 
half  an  hour,  seeking  him.  It  was  strange, 
I  know ;  but  I  was  not  a  bit  frightened, 
Dick  —  that  was  so  queer  —  but  I  was  only 
amazed  and  curious." 

The  look  of  spiritual  terror  in  Dick's  face 
here  seemed  to  give  way  to  a  less  exalted 
disturbance,  as  he  fixed  his  eyes  on  Cecily's. 

"  You  remember  I  met  you  coming  in : 
you  seemed  so  queer  then  that  I  did  not  say 
anything  to  you,  for  I  thought  you  would 
laugh  at  me,  or  reproach  me  for  my  bold 
ness  ;  and  I  thought,  Dick,  that  —  that  — 
that  —  this  person  wished  to  speak  only  to 
me"  She  hesitated. 

"  Go  on,"  said  Dick,  in  a  voice  that  had 
also  undergone  a  singular  change. 

The  chestnut  head  was  bent  a  little  lower, 
as  the  young  girl  nervously  twisted  her  fin 
gers  in  her  lap. 

"  Then  I  saw  him  again  —  and  —  again," 
she  went  on  hesitatingly.  "  Of  course  I 
spoke  to  him,  to  —  to  —  find  out  what  he 
wanted ;  but  you  know,  Dick,  I  cannot 
speak  Spanish,  and  of  course  he  didn't  un 
derstand  me,  and  did  n't  reply." 


274       TEE  MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA. 

"But  his  manner,  his  appearance,  gave 
you  some  idea  of  his  meaning  ?  "  said  Dick 
suddenly. 

Cecily's  head  drooped  a  little  lower.  "  I 
thought  —  that  is,  I  fancied  I  knew  what  he 
meant." 

"  No  doubt,"  said  Dick,  in  a  voice  which, 
but  for  the  superstitious  horror  of  the  situa 
tion,  might  have  impressed  a  casual  listener 
as  indicating  a  trace  of  human  irony. 

But  Cecily  did  not  seem  to  notice  it. 
"Perhaps  I  was  excited  that  night,  perhaps 
I  was  bolder  because  I  knew  you  were  near 
me ;  but  I  went  up  to  him  and  touched  him  ! 
And  then,  Dick  !  —  oh,  Dick !  think  how 
awful  —  " 

Again  Dick  felt  the  thrill  of  superstitious 
terror  creep  over  him.  "  And  he  vanished !  " 
he  said  hoarsely. 

"No  —  not  at  once,"  stammered  Cecily, 
with  her  head  almost  buried  in  her  lap; 
"  for  he  —  he  —  he  took  me  in  his  arms 
and  —  " 

"  And  kissed  you  ?  "  said  Dick,  springing 
to  his  feet,  with  every  trace  of  his  superstL 
tious  agony  gone  from  his  indignant  face. 
But  Cecily,  without  raising  her  head,  caught 
at  his  gesticulating  hand. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  HACIENDA.       275 

"  Oh,  Dick,  Dick  !  do  you  think  he  really 
did  it  ?  The  horror  of  it,  Dick !  to  be 
kissed  by  a  —  a  —  man  who  has  been  dead 
a  hundred  years  !  " 

"  A  hundred  fiddlesticks  !  "  said  Dick 
furiously.  "  We  have  been  deceived  !  No," 
he  stammered,  "  I  mean  you  have  been  de 
ceived  —  insulted ! " 

"  Hush  !  Aunty  will  hear  you,"  murmured 
the  girl  despairingly. 

Dick,  who  had  thrown  away  his  cousin's 
hand,  caught  it  again,  and  dragged  her 
along  the  aisle  of  light  to  the  window.  The 
moon  shone  upon  his  flushed  and  angry 
face. 

"  Listen !  "  he  said ;  "  you  have  been 
fooled,  tricked  —  infamously  tricked  by 
these  people,  and  some  confederate,  whom  — 
whom  I  shall  horsewhip  if  I  catch.  The 
whole  story  is  a  lie  !  " 

"  But  you  looked  as  if  you  believed  it  — 
about  the  girl,"  said  Cecily  ;  "  you  acted  so 
strangely.  I  even  thought,  Dick,  —  some 
times —  you  had  seen  him." 

Dick  shuddered,  trembled  ;  but  it  is  to  be 
feared  that  the  lower,  more  natural  human 
element  in  him  triumphed. 

"  Nonsense !  "  he   stammered  ;  "  the  girl 


276      THE   MYSTERY   OF   THE   HACIENDA. 

was  a  foolish  farrago  of  absurdities,  im 
probable  on  the  face  of  things,  and  impossi 
ble  to  prove.  But  that  infernal,  sneaking 
rascal  was  flesh  and  blood." 

It  seemed  to  him  to  relieve  the  situation 
and  establish  his  own  sanity  to  combat  one 
illusion  with  another.  Cecily  had  already 
been  deceived  —  another  lie  would  n't  hurt 
her.  But,  strangely  enough,  he  was  satisfied 
that  Cecily's  visitant  was  real,  although  he 
still  had  doubts  about  his  own. 

"  Then  you  think,  Dick,  it  was  actually 
some  real  man  ?  "  she  said  piteously.  "  Oh, 
Dick,  I  have  been  so  foolish  !  " 

Foolish  she  no  doubt  had  been ;  pretty 
she  certainly  was,  sitting  there  in  her  loos 
ened  hair,  and  pathetic,  appealing  earnest 
ness.  Surely  the  ghostly  Rosita's  glances 
were  never  so  pleading  as  these  actual 
honest  eyes  behind  their  curving  lashes. 
Dick  felt  a  strange,  new-born  sympathy  of 
suffering,  mingled  tantalizingly  with  a  new 
doubt  and  jealousy,  that  was  human  and 
stimulating. 

"  Oh,  Dick,  what  are  we  to  do  ?  " 

The  plural  struck  him  as  deliciously 
sweet  and  subtle.  Had  they  really  been 
singled  out  for  this  strange  experience,  or 


THE  MYSTERY  OF   THE  HACIENDA.      277 

still  stranger  hallucination  ?  His  arm  crept 
around  her ;  she  gently  withdrew  from  it. 

"  I  must  go  now,"  she  murmured  ;  "  but 
I  could  n't  sleep  until  I  told  you  all.  You 
know,  Dick,  I  have  no  one  else  to  come  to, 
and  it  seemed  to  me  that  you  ought  to  know 
it  first.  I  feel  better  for  telling  you.  You 
will  tell  me  to-morrow  what  you  think  we 
ought  to  do." 

They  reached  the  door,  opening  it  softly. 
She  lingered  for  a  moment  on  the  threshold. 

"  Tell  me,  Dick  "  (she  hesitated),  "  if 
that  —  that  really  were  a  spirit,  and  not  a 
real  man,  —  you  don't  think  that  —  that 
kiss "  (she  shuddered)  "  could  do  me 
harm ! " 

He  shuddered  too,  with  a  strange  and 
sympathetic  consciousness  that,  happily,  she 
did  not  even  suspect.  But  he  quickly  re 
covered  himself  and  said,  with  something  of 
bitterness  in  his  voice,  "  I  should  be  more 
afraid  if  it  really  were  a  man." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  Dick !  " 

Her  lips  parted  in  a  smile  of  relief ;  the 
color  came  faintly  back  to  her  cheek. 

A  wild  thought  crossed  his  fancy  that 
seemed  an  inspiration.  They  would  share 
the  risks  alike.  He  leaned  towards  her : 
their  lips  met  in  their  first  kiss. 


278      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  HACIENDA. 

"Oh,  Dick!" 
"  Dearest ! " 

"  I  think  —  we  are  saved." 
"Why?" 

"  It  was  n't  at  all  like  that." 
He  smiled  as  she  flew  swiftly  down  the 
corridor.     Perhaps  he  thought  so  too. 

No  picture  of  the  alleged  Rosita  was  ever 
found.  Dona  Felipa,  when  the  story  was 
again  referred  to,  smiled  discreetly,  but  was 
apparently  too  preoccupied  with  the  return 
of  Don  Jose's  absent  nephew  for  further 
gossiping  visits  to  the  hacienda ;  and  Dick 
and  Cecily,  as  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bracy,  would 
seem  to  have  survived  —  if  they  never  really 
solved  —  the  mystery  of  the  Hacienda  de 
los  Osos.  Yet  in  the  month  of  June,  when 
the  moon  is  high,  one  does  not  sit  on  the 
stone  bench  in  the  rose  garden  after  the  last 
stroke  of  the  Angelus. 


CHU  CHU. 

I  DO  not  believe  that  the  most  enthusias 
tic  lover  of  that  "  useful  and  noble  animal," 
the  horse,  will  claim  for  him  the  charm  of 
geniality,  humor,  or  expansive  confidence. 
Any  creature  who  will  not  look  you  squarely 
in  the  eye  —  whose  only  oblique  glances  are 
inspired  by  fear,  distrust,  or  a  view  to  at 
tack  ;  who  has  no  way  of  returning  caresses, 
and  whose  favorite  expression  is  one  of 
head-lifting  disdain,  may  be  "  noble "  or 
"  useful,"  but  can  be  hardly  said  to  add  to 
the  gayety  of  nations.  Indeed  it  may  be 
broadly  stated  that,  with  the  single  excep 
tion  of  gold-fish,  of  all  animals  kept  for  the 
recreation  of  mankind  the  horse  is  alone 
capable  of  exciting  a  passion  that  shall  be 
absolutely  hopeless.  I  deem  these  general 
remarks  necessary  to  prove  that  my  unre 
ciprocated  affection  for  "Chu  Chu"  was 
not  purely  individual  or  singular.  And  I 
may  add  that  to  these  general  characteristics 
she  brought  the  waywardness  of  her  capri 
cious  sex. 


280  CHU   CHU. 

She  came  to  me  out  of  the  rolling  dust 
of  an  emigrant  wagon,  behind  whose  tail 
board  she  was  gravely  trotting.  She  was  a 
half -broken  colt  —  in  which  character  she 
had  at  different  times  unseated  everybody 
in  the  train  —  and,  although  covered  with 
dust,  she  had  a  beautiful  coat,  and  the  most 
lambent  gazelle-like  eyes  I  had  ever  seen. 
I  think  she  kept  these  latter  organs  purely 
for  ornament  —  apparently  looking  at  things 
with  her  nose,  her  sensitive  ears,  and,  some 
times,  even  a  slight  lifting  of  her  slim  near 
fore-leg.  On  our  first  interview  I  thought 
she  favored  me  with  a  coy  glance,  but  as  it 
was  accompanied  by  an  irrelevant  "  Look 
out !  "  from  her  owner,  the  teamster,  I  was 
not  certain.  I  only  know  that  after  some 
conversation,  a  good  deal  of  mental  reserva 
tion,  and  the  disbursement  of  considerable 
coin,  I  found  myself  standing  in  the  dust  of 
the  departing  emigrant-wagon  with  one  end 
of  a  forty-foot  riata  in  my  hand,  and  Chu 
Chu  at  the  other. 

I  pulled  invitingly  at  my  own  end,  and 
even  advanced  a  step  or  two  towards  her. 
She  then  broke  into  a  long  disdainful  pace, 
and  began  to  circle  round  me  at  the  extreme 
limit  of  her  tether.  I  stood  admiring  her 


cnu  cnu.  281 

free  action  for  some  moments  —  not  always 
turning  with  her,  which  was  tiring  —  until 
I  found  that  she  was  gradually  winding 
herself  up  on  me !  Her  frantic  astonish 
ment  when  she  suddenly  found  herself  thus 
brought  up  against  me  was  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  things  I  ever  saw,  and  nearly 
took  me  off  my  legs.  Then  when  she  had 
pulled  against  the  riata  until  her  narrow 
head  and  prettily  arched  neck  were  on  a 
perfectly  straight  line  with  it,  she  as  sud 
denly  slackened  the  tension  and  conde 
scended  to  follow  me,  at  an  angle  of  her 
own  choosing.  Sometimes  it  was  on  one 
side  of  me,  sometimes  on  the  other.  Even 
then  the  sense  of  my  dreadful  contiguity 
apparently  would  come  upon  her  like  a  fresh 
discovery,  and  she  would  become  hysterical. 
But  I  do  not  think  that  she  really  saw  me. 
She  looked  at  the  riata  and  sniffed  it  dispar 
agingly  ;  she  pawed  some  pebbles  that  were 
near  me  tentatively  with  her  small  hoof ; 
she  started  back  with  a  Robinson  Crusoe- 
like  horror  of  my  footprints  in  the  wet  gully, 
but  my  actual  personal  presence  she  ignored. 
She  would  sometimes  pause,  with  her  head 
thoughtfully  between  her  fore-legs,  and  ap 
parently  say  :  "  There  is  some  extraordinary 


282  cnu  cnu. 

presence  here  :  animal,  vegetable,  or  mineral 
—  I  can't  make  out  which  —  but  it's  not 
good  to  eat,  and  I  loathe  and  detest  it." 

When  I  reached  my  house  in  the  suburbs, 
before  entering  the  "  fifty  vara "  lot  inclos- 
ure,  I  deemed  it  prudent  to  leave  her  out 
side  while  I  informed  the  household  of  my 
purchase ;  and  with  this  object  I  tethered 
her  by  the  long  riata  to  a  solitary  sycamore 
which  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  road,  the 
crossing  of  two  frequented  thoroughfares. 
It  was  not  long,  however,  before  I  was  inter 
rupted  by  shouts  and  screams  from  that 
vicinity,  and  on  returning  thither  I  found 
that  Chu  Chu,  with  the  assistance  of  her 
riata,  had  securely  wound  up  two  of  my 
neighbors  to  the  tree,  where  they  presented 
the  appearance  of  early  Christian  martyrs. 
When  I  released  them  it  appeared  that  they 
had  been  attracted  by  Chu  Chu's  graces, 
and  had  offered  her  overtures  of  affection, 
to  which  she  had  characteristically  rotated 
with  this  miserable  result.  I  led  her,  with 
some  difficulty,  warily  keeping  clear  of  the 
riata,  to  the  inclosure,  from  whose  fence  I 
had  previously  removed  several  bars.  Al 
though  the  space  was  wide  enough  to  have 
admitted  a  troop  of  cavalry  she  affected  not 


cnu  CHU.  283 

to  notice  it,  and  managed  to  kick  away  part 
of  another  section  on  entering.  She  resisted 
the  stable  for  some  time,  but  after  carefully 
examining  it  with  her  hoofs,  and  an  affect- 
edly  meek  outstretching  of  her  nose,  she 
consented  to  recognize  some  oats  in  the 
feed-box  —  without  looking  at  them  —  and 
was  formally  installed.  All  this  while  she 
had  resolutely  ignored  my  presence.  As  I 
stood  watching  her  she  suddenly  stopped 
eating ;  the  same  reflective  look  came  over 
her.  "  Surely  I  am  not  mistaken,  but  that 
same  obnoxious  creature  is  somewhere  about 
here  !  "  she  seemed  to  say,  and  shivered  at 
the  possibility. 

It  was  probably  this  which  made  me  con 
fide  my  unreciprocated  affection  to  one  of 
my  neighbors  —  a  man  supposed  to  be  an 
authority  on  horses,  and  particularly  of  that 
wild  species  to  which  Chu  Chu  belonged. 
It  was  he  who,  leaning  over  the  edge  of  the 
stall  where  she  was  complacently  and,  as 
usual,  obliviously  munching,  absolutely  dared 
to  toy  with  a  pet  lock  of  hair  which  she 
wore  over  the  pretty  star  on  her  forehead. 
"  Ye  see,  captain,"  he  said  with  jaunty  easi 
ness,  "  hosses  is  like  wimmen  ;  ye  don't  want 
ter  use  any  standoffishness  or  shyness  with 


284  CHU  CEU. 

them  ;  a  stiddy  but  keerless  sort  o'  famil. 
iarity,  a  kind  o'  free  but  firm  handlin',  jess 
like  this,  to  let  her  see  who 's  master  "  — 

We  never  clearly  knew  how  it  happened ; 
but  when  I  picked  up  my  neighbor  from  the 
doorway,  amid  the  broken  splinters  of  the 
stall  rail,  and  a  quantity  of  oats  that  mys 
teriously  filled  his  hair  and  pockets,  Chu 
Chu  was  found  to  have  faced  around  the 
other  way,  and  was  contemplating  her  fore 
legs,  with  her  hind  ones  in  the  other  stalL 
My  neighbor  spoke  of  damages  while  he  was 
in  the  stall,  and  of  physical  coercion  when 
he  was  out  of  it  again.  But  here  Chu  Chu, 
in  some  marvelous  way,  righted  herself,  and 
my  neighbor  departed  hurriedly  with  a  brim- 
less  hat  and  an  unfinished  sentence. 

My  next  intermediary  was  Enriquez  Sal- 
tello  —  a  youth  of  my  own  age,  and  the 
brother  of  Consuelo  Saltello,  whom  I  adored. 
As  a  Spanish  Californian  he  was  presumed, 
on  account  of  Chu  Chu's  half-Spanish  ori 
gin,  to  have  superior  knowledge  of  her  char 
acter,  and  I  even  vaguely  believed  that  his 
language  and  accent  would  fall  familiarly 
on  her  ear.  There  was  the  drawback,  how 
ever,  that  he  always  preferred  to  talk  in  a 
marvelous  English,  combining  Castilian  pre- 


CHU  CHU.  285 

cision  with  what  he  fondly  believed  to  be 
Californian  slang. 

"  To  confer  then  as  to  thees  horse,  which 
is  not  —  observe  me  —  a  Mexican  plug ! 
Ah,  no!  you  can  your  boots  bet  on  that. 
She  is  of  Castilian  stock  —  believe  me  and 
strike  me  dead!  I  will  myself  at  different 
times  overlook  and  affront  her  in  the  stable, 
examine  her  as  to  the  assault,  and  why  she 
should  do  thees  thing.  When  she  is  of  the 
exercise  I  will  also  accost  and  restrain  her. 
Remain  tranquil,  my  friend !  When  a  few 
days  shall  pass  much  shall  be  changed,  and 
she  will  be  as  another.  Trust  your  oncle  to 
do  thees  thing !  Comprehend  me  ?  Every 
thing  shall  be  lovely,  and  the  goose  hang 
high!" 

Conformably  with  this  he  "  overlooked  " 
her  the  next  day,  with  a  cigarette  between 
his  yellow-stained  finger-tips,  which  made 
her  sneeze  in  a  silent  pantomimic  way,  and 
certain  Spanish  blandishments  of  speech 
which  she  received  with  more  complacency. 
But  I  don't  think  she  ever  even  looked  at 
him.  In  vain  he  protested  that  she  was  the 
"dearest"  and  "littlest"  of  his  "little 
loves"  —  in  vain  he  asserted  that  she  was 
his  patron  saint,  and  that  it  was  his  soul's 


286  cnu  cnu. 

delight  to  pray  to  her;  she  accepted  tho 
compliment  with  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the 
manger.  When  he  had  exhausted  his  whole 
stock  of  endearing  diminutives,  adding  a 
few  playful  and  more  audacious  sallies,  she 
remained  with  her  head  down,  as  if  inclined 
to  meditate  upon  them.  This  he  declared 
was  at  least  an  improvement  on  her  former 
performances.  It  may  have  been  my  own 
jealousy,  but  I  fancied  she  was  only  saying 
to  herself,  "  Gracious !  can  there  be  two  of 
them?" 

"Courage  and  patience,  my  friend,"  he 
said,  as  we  were  slowly  quitting  the  stable. 
"  Thees  horse  is  yonge,  and  has  not  yet  the 
habitude  of  the  person.  To-morrow,  at  an 
other  season,  I  shall  give  to  her  a  found 
ling  "  ("  fondling,"  I  have  reason  to  believe, 
was  the  word  intended  by  Enriquez)  — 
"  and  we  shall  see.  It  shall  be  as  easy  as 
to  fall  away  from  a  log.  A  leetle  more  of 
this  chin  music  which  your  friend  Enriquez 
possesses,  and  some  tapping  of  the  head  and 
neck,  and  you  are  there.  You  are  ever  the 
right  side  up.  Houp  la!  But  let  us  not 
precipitate  this  thing.  The  more  haste,  wo 
do  not  so  much  accelerate  ourselves." 

He  appeared  to  be  suiting  the  action  to 


CHV  cnu.  287 

the  word  as  he  lingered  in  the  doorway  of 
the  stable.  "  Come  on,"  I  said. 

"  Pardon,"  he  returned,  with  a  bow  that 
was  both  elaborate  and  evasive,  "but  you 
shall  yourself  precede  me  —  the  stable  is 
yours." 

"  Oh,  come  along !  "  I  continued  impa 
tiently.  To  my  surprise  he  seemed  to  dodge 
back  into  the  stable  again.  After  an  in 
stant  he  reappeared. 

"  Pardon  I  but  I  am  re-strain !  Of  a 
truth,  in  this  instant  I  am  grasp  by  the 
mouth  of  thees  horse  in  the  coat-tail  of  my 
dress !  She  will  that  I  should  remain.  It 
would  seem  "  —  he  disappeared  again  — 
"that"  —  he  was  out  once  more — "the 
experiment  is  a  sooccess !  She  reciprocate ! 
She  is,  of  a  truth,  gone  on  me.  It  is  lofe!  " 
—  a  stronger  pull  from  Chu  Chu  here  sent 
him  in  again  —  "  but "  —  he  was  out  now 
triumphantly  with  half  his  garment  torn 
away  —  "I  shall  coquet." 

Nothing  daunted,  however,  the  gallant 
fellow  was  back  next  day  with  a  Mexican 
.saddle,  and  attired  in  the  complete  outfit  of 
a  vaquero.  Overcome  though  he  was  by 
heavy  deerskin  trousers,  open  at  the  side 
from  the  knees  down,  and  fringed  with 


288  cnu  cnu. 

bullion  buttons,  an  enormous  flat  sombrero^ 
and  a  stiff,  short  embroidered  velvet  jacket, 
I  was  more  concerned  at  the  ponderous  sad 
dle  and  equipments  intended  for  the  slim 
Chu  Chu.  That  these  would  hide  and  con 
ceal  her  beautiful  curves  and  contour,  as 
well  as  overweight  her,  seemed  certain ; 
that  she  would  resist  them  all  to  the  last 
seemed  equally  clear.  Nevertheless,  to  my 
surprise,  when  she  was  led  out,  and  the  sad 
dle  thrown  deftly  across  her  back,  she  was 
passive.  Was  it  possible  that  some  drop  of 
her  old  Spanish  blood  responded  to  its  cling 
ing  embrace?  She  did  not  either  look  at 
it  nor  smell  it.  But  when  Enriquez  began 
to  tighten  the  "  cinch  "  or  girth  a  more  sin 
gular  thing  occurred.  Chu  Chu  visibly 
distended  her  slender  barrel  to  twice  its  di 
mensions  ;  the  more  he  pulled  the  more  she 
swelled,  until  I  was  actually  ashamed  of  her. 
Not  so  Enriquez.  He  smiled  at  us,  and 
complacently  stroked  his  thin  moustache. 

"  Eet  is  ever  so !  She  is  the  child  of  her 
grandmother!  Even  when  you  shall  make 
saddle  thees  old  Castilian  stock,  it  will 
make  large  —  it  will  become  a  balloon ! 
Eet  is  a  trick  —  eet  is  a  leetle  game  —  be 
lieve  me.  For  why  ?  " 


cnu  CHU.  289 

I  had  not  listened,  as  I  was  at  that  mo 
ment  astonished  to  see  the  saddle  slowly 
slide  under  Chu  Chu's  belly,  and  her  figure 
resume,  as  if  by  magic,  its  former  slim  pro 
portions.  Enriquez  followed  my  eyes,  lifted 
his  shoulders,  shrugged  them,  and  said  smil 
ingly,  "  Ah,  you  see !  " 

When  the  girths  were  drawn  in  again 
with  an  extra  pull  or  two  from  the  indefati 
gable  Enriquez,  I  fancied  that  Chu  Chu 
nevertheless  secretly  enjoyed  it,  as  her  sex 
is  said  to  appreciate  tight-lacing.  She  drew 
a  deep  sigh,  possibly  of  satisfaction,  turned 
her  neck,  and  apparently  tried  to  glance  at 
her  own  figure  —  Enriquez  promptly  with 
drawing  to  enable  her  to  do  so  easily. 
Then  the  dread  moment  arrived.  Enri 
quez,  with  his  hand  on  her  mane,  suddenly 
paused  and,  with  exaggerated  courtesy,  lifted 
his  hat  and  made  an  inviting  gesture. 

"  You  will  honor  me  to  precede." 

I  shook  my  head  laughingly. 

"  I  see,"  responded  Enriquez  gravely. 
"  You  have  to  attend  the  obsequies  of  your 
aunt  who  is  dead,  at  two  of  the  clock.  You 
have  to  meet  your  broker  who  has  bought 
you  feefty  share  of  the  Comstock  lode  —  at 
thees  moment  —  or  you  are  loss !  You  are 


290  CHU  CHU. 

excuse!  Attend!  Gentlemen,  make  your 
bets !  The  band  has  arrived  to  play !  'Ere 
we  are ! " 

With  a  quick  movement  the  alert  young 
fellow  had  vaulted  into  the  saddle.  But,  to 
the  astonishment  of  both  of  us,  the  mare  re 
mained  perfectly  still.  There  was  Enriquez 
bolt  upright  in  the  stirrups,  completely  over 
shadowing  by  his  saddle-flaps,  leggings,  and 
gigantic  spurs  the  fine  proportions  of  Chu 
Chu,  until  she  might  have  been  a  placid 
Kosinante,  bestridden  by  some  youthful 
Quixote.  She  closed  her  eyes,  she  was 
going  to  sleep !  We  were  dreadfully  disap 
pointed.  This  clearly  would  not  do.  Enri 
quez  lifted  the  reins  cautiously  !  Chu  Chu 
moved  forward  slowly  —  then  stopped,  ap 
parently  lost  in  reflection. 

"  Affront  her  on  thees  side." 

I  approached  her  gently.  She  shot  sud 
denly  into  the  air,  coming  down  again  on 
perfectly  stiff  legs  with  a  springless  jolt. 
This  she  instantly  followed  by  a  succession 
of  other  rocket-like  propulsions,  utterly  un 
like  a  leap,  all  over  the  inclosure.  The 
movements  of  the  unfortunate  Enriquez 
were  equally  unlike  any  equitation  I  ever 
saw.  He  appeared  occasionally  over  Chu 


CHU  CHU.  291 

Chu's  head,  astride  of  her  neck  and  tail,  or 
in  the  free  air,  but  never  in  the  saddle. 
His  rigid  legs,  however,  never  lost  the  stir 
rups,  but  came  down  regularly,  accentuating 
her  springless  hops.  More  than  that,  the 
disproportionate  excess  of  rider,  saddle,  and 
accoutrements  was  so  great  that  he  had, 
at  times,  the  appearance  of  lifting  Chu 
Chu  forcibly  from  the  ground  by  superior 
strength,  and  of  actually  contributing  to 
her  exercise !  As  they  came  towards  me,  a 
wild  tossing  and  flying  mass  of  hoofs  and 
spurs,  it  was  not  only  difficult  to  distinguish 
them  apart,  but  to  ascertain  how  much  of 
the  jumping  was  done  by  Enriquez  sepa 
rately.  At  last  Chu  Chu  brought  matters 
to  a  close  by  making  for  the  low-stretching 
branches  of  an  oak-tree  which  stood  at  the 
corner  of  the  lot.  In  a  few  moments  she 
emerged  from  it  —  but  without  Enriquez. 

I  found  the  gallant  fellow  disengaging 
himself  from  the  fork  of  a  branch  in  which 
he  had  been  firmly  wedged,  but  still  smiling 
and  confident,  and  his  cigarette  between  his 
teeth.  Then  for  the  first  time  he  removed 
it,  and  seating  himself  easily  on  the  branch 
with  his  legs  dangling  down,  he  blandly 
waved  aside  my  anxious  queries  with  a  gen 
tle  reassuring  gesture. 


292  cnu  CHU. 

"Remain  tranquil,  my  friend.  Thees 
does  not  count !  I  have  conquer  —  you  ob 
serve  —  for  why  ?  I  have  never  for  once 
arrive  at  the  ground!  Consequent  she  is 
disappoint !  She  will  ever  that  I  should ! 
But  I  have  got  her  when  the  hair  is  not 
long !  Your  oncle  Henry  "  —  with  an  an 
gelic  wink  —  "is  fly!  He  is  ever  a  bully 
boy,  with  the  eye  of  glass !  Believe  me. 
Behold !  I  am  here !  Big  Injun !  Whoop !  " 

He  leaped  lightly  to  the  ground.  Chu 
Chu,  standing  watchfully  at  a  little  distance, 
was  evidently  astonished  at  his  appearance. 
She  threw  out  her  hind  hoofs  violently,  shot 
up  into  the  air  until  the  stirrups  crossed 
each  other  high  above  the  saddle,  and  made 
for  the  stable  in  a  succession  of  rabbit-like 
bounds  —  taking  the  precaution  to  remove 
the  saddle,  on  entering,  by  striking  it  against 
the  lintel  of  the  door.  "  You  observe,"  said 
Enriquez  blandly,  "  she  would  make  that 
thing  of  me.  Not  having  the  good  occasion, 
she  ees  dissatisfied.  Where  are  you  now  ?  " 

Two  or  three  days  afterwards  he  rode  her 
again  with  the  same  result  —  accepted  by 
him  with  the  same  heroic  complacency.  As 
we  did  not,  for  certain  reasons,  care  to  use 
the  open  road  for  this  exercise,  and  as  it 


CHU  CHU.  293 

was  impossible  to  remove  the  tree,  we  were 
obliged  to  submit  to  the  inevitable.  On 
the  following  day  I  mounted  her  —  under 
going  the  same  experience  as  Enriquez,  with 
the  individual  sensation  of  falling  from  a 
third-story  window  on  top  of  a  counting- 
house  stool,  and  the  variation  of  being  pro 
jected  over  the  fence.  When  I  found  that 
Chu  Chu  had  not  accompanied  me,  I  saw 
Enriquez  at  my  side.  "  More  than  ever  it 
is  become  necessary  that  we  should  do  thees 
things  again,"  he  said  gravely,  as  he  assisted 
me  to  my  feet.  "  Courage,  my  noble  Gen 
eral  !  God  and  Liberty !  Once  more  on 
to  the  breach!  Charge,  Chestare,  charge! 
Come  on,  Don  Stanley !  'Ere  we  are !  " 

He  helped  me  none  too  quickly  to  catch 
my  seat  again,  for  it  apparently  had  the 
effect  of  the  turned  peg  on  the  enchanted 
horse  in  the  Arabian  Nights,  and  Chu  Chu 
instantly  rose  into  the  air.  But  she  came 
down  this  time  before  the  open  window  of 
the  kitchen,  and  I  alighted  easily  on  the 
dresser.  The  indefatigable  Enriquez  fol 
lowed  me. 

"  Won't  this  do? "  I  asked  meekly. 

"It  ees  better  —  for  you  arrive  not  on 
the  ground,"  he  said  cheerf idly ;  "  but  you 


294  cnu  cnu. 

should  not  once  but  a  thousand  times  make 
trial !  Ha !  Go  and  win !  Nevare  die  and 
say  so !  'Eave  ahead !  'Eave !  There  you 
are !  " 

Luckily,  this  time  I  managed  to  lock  the 
rowels  of  my  long  spurs  under  her  girth, 
and  she  could  not  unseat  me.  She  seemed 
to  recognize  the  fact  after  one  or  two 
plunges,  when,  to  my  great  surprise,  she 
suddenly  sank  to  the  ground  and  quietly 
rolled  over  me.  The  action  disengaged  my 
spurs,  but,  righting  herself  without  getting 
up,  she  turned  her  beautiful  head  and  abso 
lutely  looked  at  me !  —  still  in  the  saddle. 
I  felt  myself  blushing!  But  the  voice  of 
Enriquez  was  at  my  side. 

"Errise,  my  friend;  you  have  conquer! 
It  is  she  who  has  arrive  at  the  ground ! 
You  are  all  right.  It  is  done ;  believe  me, 
it  is  feenish !  No  more  shall  she  make  thees 
thing.  From  thees  instant  you  shall  ride 
her  as  the  cow  —  as  the  rail  of  thees  fence 
—  and  remain  tranquil.  For  she  is  a-broke ! 
Ta-ta !  Eegain  your  hats,  gentlemen !  Pass 
in  your  checks  !  It  is  ovar !  How  are  you 
now?"  He  lit  a  fresh  cigarette,  put  his 
hands  in  his  pockets,  and  smiled  at  me 
blandly. 


cnu  cnu.  295 

For  all  that,  I  ventured  to  point  out  that 
the  habit  of  alighting  in  the  fork  of  a  tree, 
or  the  disengaging  of  one's  self  from  the 
saddle  on  the  ground,  was  attended  with  in 
convenience,  and  even  ostentatious  display. 
But  Enriquez  swept  the  objections  away 
with  a  single  gesture.  "  It  is  the  preenci- 
pal  —  the  bottom  fact  —  at  which  you  ar 
rive.  The  next  come  of  himself !  Many 
horse  have  achieve  to  mount  the  rider  by 
the  knees,  and  relinquish  after  thees  same 
fashion.  My  grandfather  had  a  barb  of 
thees  kind  —  but  she  has  gone  dead,  and  so 
have  my  grandfather.  Which  is  sad  and 
strange !  Otherwise  I  shall  make  of  them 
both  an  instant  example !  " 

I  ought  to  have  said  that  although  these 
performances  were  never  actually  witnessed 
by  Enriquez's  sister  —  for  reasons  which  he 
and  I  thought  sufficient  —  the  dear  girl  dis 
played  the  greatest  interest  in  them,  and, 
perhaps  aided  by  our  mutually  complimen 
tary  accounts  of  each  other,  looked  upon  us 
both  as  invincible  heroes.  It  is  possible 
also  that  she  over-estimated  our  success,  for 
she  suddenly  demanded  that  I  should  ride 
Chu  Chu  to  her  house,  that  she  might  see 
her.  It  was  not  far ;  by  going  through  a 


296  cnu  cnu. 

back  lane  I  could  avoid  the  trees  which  ex 
ercised  such  a  fatal  fascination  for  Chu  Chu. 
There  was  a  pleading,  child-like  entreaty  in 
Consuelo's  voice  that  I  could  not  resist,  with 
a  slight  flash  from  her  lustrous  dark  eyes 
that  I  did  not  care  to  encourage.  So  I  re 
solved  to  try  it  at  all  hazards. 

My  equipment  for  the  performance  was 
modeled  after  Enriquez's  previous  costume, 
with  the  addition  of  a  few  fripperies  of  sil 
ver  and  stamped  leather  out  of  compliment 
to  Consuelo,  and  even  with  a  faint  hope  that 
it  might  appease  Chu  Chu.  She  certainly 
looked  beautiful  in  her  glittering  accoutre 
ments,  set  off  by  her  jet-black  shining  coat. 
With  an  air  of  demure  abstraction  she  per 
mitted  me  to  mount  her,  and  even  for  a 
hundred  yards  or  so  indulged  in  a  mincing 
maidenly  amble  that  was  not  without  a 
touch  of  coquetry.  Encouraged  by  this,  I 
addressed  a  few  terms  of  endearment  to  her, 
and  in  the  exuberance  of  my  youthful  en 
thusiasm  I  even  confided  to  her  my  love  for 
Consuelo,  and  begged  her  to  be  "  good  "  and 
not  disgrace  herself  and  me  before  my  Dul- 
cinea.  In  my  foolish  trustfulness  I  was 
rash  enough  to  add  a  caress,  and  to  pat  her 
soft  neck.  She  stopped  instantly  with  a 


cnu  CHU.  297 

hysteric  shudder.  I  knew  what  was  pass 
ing  through  her  mind :  she  had  suddenly 
become  aware  of  my  baleful  existence. 

The  saddle  and  bridle  Chu  Chu  was  be 
coming  accustomed  to,  but  who  was  this  liv 
ing,  breathing  object  that  had  actually 
touched  her?  Presently  her  oblique  vision 
was  attracted  by  the  fluttering  movement  of 
a  fallen  oak-leaf  in  the  road  before  her. 
She  had  probably  seen  many  oak-leaves 
many  times  before ;  her  ancestors  had  no 
doubt  been  familiar  with  them  on  the  track 
less  hills  and  in  field  and  paddock,  but  this 
did  not  alter  her  profound  conviction  that  I 
and  the  leaf  were  identical,  that  our  baleful 
touch  was  something  indissolubly  connected. 
She  reared  before  that  innocent  leaf,  she  re 
volved  round  it,  and  then  fled  from  it  at  the 
top  of  her  speed. 

The  lane  passed  before  the  rear  wall  of 
Saltello's  garden.  Unfortunately,  at  the 
angle  of  the  fence  stood  a  beautiful  Madrono- 
tree,  brilliant  with  its  scarlet  berries,  and 
endeared  to  me  as  Consuelo's  favorite  haunt, 
under  whose  protecting  shade  I  had  more 
than  once  avowed  my  youthful  passion.  By 
the  irony  of  fate  Chu  Chu  caught  sight  of 
it,  and  with  a  succession  of  spirited  bounds 


298  cnu  CHU- 

instantly  made  for  it.  In  another  moment  1 
was  beneath  it,  and  Chu  Chu  shot  like  a 
rocket  into  the  air.  I  had  barely  time  to 
withdraw  my  feet  from  the  stirrups,  to  throw 
up  one  arm  to  protect  my  glazed  sombrero 
and  grasp  an  overhanging  branch  with  the 
other,  before  Chu  Chu  darted  off.  But  to 
my  consternation,  as  I  gained  a  secure  perch 
on  the  tree,  and  looked  about  me,  I  saw  her 
—  instead  of  running  away  —  quietly  trot 
through  the  open  gate  into  Saltello's  garden. 

Need  I  say  that  it  was  to  the  beneficent 
Enriquez  that  I  again  owed  my  salvation? 
Scarcely  a  moment  elapsed  before  his  bland 
voice  rose  in  a  concentrated  whisper  from 
the  corner  of  the  garden  below  me.  He  had 
divined  the  dreadful  truth ! 

"  For  the  love  of  God,  collect  to  yourself 
many  kinds  of  thees  berry !  All  you  can ! 
Your  full  arms  round !  Kest  tranquil.  Leave 
to  your  ole  oncle  to  make  for  you  a  delicate 
exposure.  At  the  instant !  " 

He  was  gone  again.  I  gathered,  won- 
deringly,  a  few  of  the  larger  clusters  of 
parti-colored  fruit  and  patiently  waited. 
Presently  he  reappeared,  and  with  him  the 
lovely  Consuelo  —  her  dear  eyes  filled  with 
an  adorable  anxiety. 


CHU   CHU.  299 

"Yes,"  continued  Enriquez  to  his  sister, 
with  a  confidential  lowering  of  tone  but  great 
distinctness  of  utterance,  "  it  is  ever  so  with 
the  American !  He  will  ever  make  first  the 
salutation  of  the  flower  or  the  fruit,  picked 
to  himself  by  his  own  hand,  to  the  lady 
where  he  call.  It  is  the  custom  of  the 
American  hidalgo  !  My  God  —  what  will 
you  ?  /  make  it  not  —  it  is  so  !  Without 
doubt  he  is  in  this  instant  doing  thees  thing. 
That  is  why  he  have  let  go  his  horse  to  pre 
cede  him  here ;  it  is  always  the  etiquette  to 
offer  these  things  on  the  feet.  Ah!  Be 
hold  !  it  is  he  !  —  Don  Francisco !  Even 
now  he  will  descend  from  thees  tree !  Ah ! 
You  make  the  blush,  little  sister  (archly)  ! 
I  will  retire !  I  am  discreet ;  two  is  not 
company  for  the  one  !  I  make  tracks  !  I 
am  gone ! " 

How  far  Consuelo  entirely  believed  and 
trusted  her  ingenious  brother  I  do  not 
know,  nor  even  then  cared  to  inquire.  For 
there  was  a  pretty  mantling  of  her  olive 
cheek,  as  I  came  forward  with  my  offering, 
and  a  certain  significant  shyness  in  her  man 
ner  that  were  enough  to  throw  me  into  a 
state  of  hopeless  imbecility.  And  I  was  al 
ways  miserably  conscious  that  Consuelo  pos- 


300  CHU  CHU. 

sessed  an  exalted  sentimentality,  and  a  pre 
dilection  for  the  highest  mediaeval  romance, 
in  which  I  knew  I  was  lamentably  deficient. 
Even  in  our  most  confidential  moments  I 
was  always  aware  that  I  weakly  lagged  be 
hind  this  daughter  of  a  gloomily  distin 
guished  ancestry,  in  her  frequent  incursions 
into  a  vague  but  poetic  past.  There  was 
something  of  the  dignity  of  the  Spanish  cha 
telaine  in  the  sweetly  grave  little  figure  that 
advanced  to  accept  my  specious  offering.  I 
think  I  should  have  fallen  on  my  knees  to 
present  it,  but  for  the  presence  of  the  all- 
seeing  Enriquez.  But  why  did  I  even  at 
that  moment  remember  that  he  had  early 
bestowed  upon  her  the  nickname  of  "  Pom- 
posa "  ?  This,  as  Enriquez  himself  might 
have  observed,  was  "  sad  and  strange." 

I  managed  to  stammer  out  something 
about  the  Madrono  berries  being  at  her 
"  disposicion  "  (the  tree  was  in  her  own  gar 
den  !),  and  she  took  the  branches  in  her  little 
brown  hand  with  a  soft  response  to  my  un 
utterable  glances. 

But  here  Chu  Chu,  momentarily  forgotten, 
executed  a  happy  diversion.  To  our  aston 
ishment  she  gravely  walked  up  to  Consuelo 
and,  stretching  out  her  long  slim  neck,  not 


en  u  CHU.  301 

only  sniffed  curiously  at  the  berries,  but  even 
protruded  a  black  underlip  towards  the 
young  girl  herself.  In  another  instant  Con- 
suelo's  dignity  melted.  Throwing  her  arms 
around  Chu  Chu's  neck  she  embraced  and 
kissed  her.  Young  as  I  was,  I  understood 
the  divine  significance  of  a  girl's  vicarious 
effusiveness  at  such  a  moment,  and  felt  de 
lighted.  But  I  was  the  more  astonished  that 
the  usually  sensitive  horse  not  only  submit 
ted  to  these  caresses,  but  actually  responded 
to  the  extent  of  affecting  to  nip  my  mistress's 
little  right  ear. 

This  was  enough  for  the  impulsive  Con- 
suelo.  She  ran  hastily  into  the  house,  and 
in  a  few  moments  reappeared  in  a  bewitch 
ing  riding-skirt  gathered  round  her  jimp 
waist.  In  vain  Enriquez  and  myself  joined 
in  earnest  entreaty:  the  horse  was  hardly 
broken  for  even  a  man's  riding  yet;  the 
saints  alone  could  tell  what  the  nervous  crea 
ture  might  do  with  a  woman's  skirt  flap 
ping  at  her  side !  We  begged  for  delay,  for 
reflection,  for  at  least  time  to  change  the 
saddle  —  but  with  no  avail !  Consuelo  was 
determined,  indignant,  distressingly  re 
proachful  !  Ah,  well !  if  Don  Pancho  (an 
ingenious  diminutive  of  my  Christian  name) 


302  CHU  CHU. 

valued  his  horse  so  highly  —  if  he  were  jeal 
ous  of  the  evident  devotion  of  the  animal  to 
herself,  he  would  —  but  here  I  succumbed  ! 
And  then  I  had  the  felicity  of  holding  that 
little  foot  for  one  brief  moment  in  the  hollow 
of  my  hand,  of  readjusting  the  skirt  as  she 
threw  her  knee  over  the  saddle-horn,  of 
clasping  her  tightly  —  only  half  in  fear  — 
as  I  surrendered  the  reins  to  her  grasp.  And 
to  tell  the  truth,  as  Enriquez  and  I  fell  back, 
although  I  had  insisted  upon  still  keeping 
hold  of  the  end  of  the  riata,  it  was  a  picture 
to  admire.  The  petite  figure  of  the  young 
girl,  and  the  graceful  folds  of  her  skirt,  ad 
mirably  harmonized  with  Chu  Chu's  lithe 
contour,  and  as  the  mare  arched  her  slim 
neck  and  raised  her  slender  head  under  the 
pressure  of  the  reins,  it  was  so  like  the  lifted 
velvet-capped  toreador  crest  of  Consuelo  her 
self,  that  they  seemed  of  one  race. 

"  I  would  not  that  you  should  hold  the 
riata"  said  Consuelo  petulantly. 

I  hesitated  —  Chu  Chu  looked  certainly 
very  amiable  —  I  let  go.  She  began  to 
amble  towards  the  gate,  not  mincingly  as  be 
fore,  but  with  a  freer  and  fuller  stride.  In 
spite  of  the  incongruous  saddle  the  young 
girl's  seat  was  admirable.  As  they  neared 


CHU  CHU.  303 

the  gate  she  cast  a  single  mischievous  glance 
at  me,  jerked  at  the  rein,  and  Chu  Chu 
sprang  into  the  road  at  a  rapid  canter.  I 
watched  them  fearfully  and  breathlessly,  un 
til  at  the  end  of  the  lane  I  saw  Consuelo  rein 
in  slightly,  wheel  easily,  and  come  flying 
back.  There  was  no  doubt  about  it ;  the 
horse  was  under  perfect  control.  Her  second 
subjugation  was  complete  and  final ! 

Overjoyed  and  bewildered,  I  overwhelmed 
them  with  congratulations  ;  Enriquez  alone 
retaining  the  usual  brotherly  attitude  of  crit 
icism,  and  a  superior  toleration  of  a  lover's 
enthusiasm.  I  ventured  to  hint  to  Consuelo 
(in  what  I  believed  was  a  safe  whisper)  that 
Chu  Chu  only  showed  my  own  feelings 
towards  her.  "  Without  doubt,"  responded 
Enriquez  gravely.  "  She  have  of  herself 
assist  you  to  climb  to  the  tree  to  pull  to 
yourself  the  berry  for  my  sister."  But  I 
felt  Consuelo's  little  hand  return  my  pres 
sure,  and  I  forgave  and  even  pitied  him. 

From  that  day  forward,  Chu  Chu  and  Con. 
suelo  were  not  only  firm  friends  but  daily 
companions.  In  my  devotion  I  would  have 
presented  the  horse  to  the  young  girl,  but 
with  flattering  delicacy  she  preferred  to  call 
it  mine.  "  I  shall  erride  it  for  you,  Pancho," 


304  CHU  CHU. 

she  said ;  "  I  shall  feel,"  she  continued  with 
exalted  although  somewhat  vague  poetry, 
"that  it  is  of  you  1  You  lof e  the  beast  — 
it  is  therefore  of  a  necessity  you,  my  Pancho ! 
It  is  your  soul  I  shall  erride  like  the  wings 
of  the  wind  —  your  lof  e  in  this  beast  shall  be 
my  only  cavalier  for  ever."  I  would  have 
preferred  something  whose  vicarious  qualities 
were  less  uncertain  than  I  still  felt  Chu  Chu's 
to  be,  but  I  kissed  the  girl's  hand  submis 
sively.  It  was  only  when  I  attempted  to  ac 
company  her  in  the  flesh,  on  another  horse, 
that  I  felt  the  full  truth  of  my  instinctive 
fears.  Chu  Chu  would  not  permit  any  one 
to  approach  her  mistress's  side.  My 
mounted  presence  revived  in  her  all  her  old 
blind  astonishment  and  disbelief  in  my  exist 
ence  ;  she  would  start  suddenly,  face  about, 
and  back  away  from  me  in  utter  amazement 
as  if  I  had  been  only  recently  created,  or 
with  an  affected  modesty  as  if  I  had  been 
just  guilty  of  some  grave  indecorum  towards 
her  sex  which  she  really  could  not  stand. 
The  frequency  of  these  exhibitions  in  the 
public  highway  were  not  only  distressing  to 
me  as  a  simple  escort,  but  as  it  had  the 
effect  on  the  casual  spectators  of  making 
Consuelo  seem  to  participate  in  Chu  Chu's 


CHU  CHU.  305 

objections,  I  felt  that,  as  a  lover,  it  could  not 
be  borne.  Any  attempt  to  coerce  Chu  Chu 
ended  in  her  running  away.  And  my 
frantic  pursuit  of  her  was  open  to  equal  mis 
construction.  "  Go  it,  Miss,  the  little  dude 
is  gainin'  on  you ! "  shouted  by  a  drunken 
teamster  to  the  frightened  Consuelo,  once 
checked  me  in  mid  career.  Even  the  dear 
girl  herself  saw  the  uselessness  of  my  real 
presence,  and  after  a  while  was  content  to 
ride  with  "  my  soul." 

Notwithstanding  this,  I  am  not  ashamed 
to  say  that  it  was  my  custom,  whenever  she 
rode  out,  to  keep  a  slinking  and  distant  sur 
veillance  of  Chu  Chu  on  another  horse, 
until  she  had  fairly  settled  down  to  her  pace. 
A  little  nod  of  Consuelo's  round  black-and- 
red  toreador  hat  or  a  kiss  tossed  from  her 
riding-whip  was  reward  enough ! 

I  remember  a  pleasant  afternoon  when  I 
was  thus  awaiting  her  in  the  outskirts  of  the 
village.  The  eternal  smile  of  the  Califor- 
nian  summer  had  begun  to  waver  and  grow 
less  fixed  ;  dust  lay  thick  on  leaf  and  blade ; 
the  dry  hills  were  clothed  in  russet  leather ; 
the  trade  winds  were  shifting  to  the  south 
with  an  ominous  warm  humidity ;  a  few  days 
longer  and  the  rains  would  be  here.  It  so 


306  CHU  CHU. 

chanced  that  this  afternoon  my  seclusion  on 
the  roadside  was  accidentally  invaded  by  a 
village  belle  —  a  Western  young  lady  some 
what  older  than  myself,  and  of  flirtatious 
reputation.  As  she  persistently  and  —  as  I 
now  have  reason  to  believe  —  mischievously 
lingered,  I  had  only  a  passing  glimpse  of 
Consuelo  riding  past  at  an  unaccustomed 
speed  which  surprised  me  at  the  moment. 
But  as  I  reasoned  later  that  she  was  only 
trying  to  avoid  a  merely  formal  meeting,  I 
thought  no  more  about  it.  It  was  not  until 
I  called  at  the  house  to  fetch  Chu  Chu  at 
the  usual  hour,  and  found  that  Consuelo 
had  not  yet  returned,  that  a  recollection  of 
Chu  Chu's  furious  pace  again  troubled  me. 
An  hour  passed  —  it  was  getting  towards  sun 
set,  but  there  were  no  signs  of  Chu  Chu  nor 
her  mistress.  I  became  seriously  alarmed. 
I  did  not  care  to  reveal  my  fears  to  the  fam 
ily,  for  I  felt  myself  responsible  for  Chu 
Chu.  At  last  I  desperately  saddled  my 
horse,  and  galloped  off  in  the  direction  she 
had  taken.  It  was  the  road  to  Rosario  and 
the  hacienda  of  one  of  her  relations,  where 
she  sometimes  halted. 

The  road  was  a  very  unfrequented  one, 
twisting  like  a  mountain  river;  indeed,  it 


CHU  CHU.  307 

was  the  bed  of  an  old  watercourse,  between 
brown  hills  of  wild  oats,  and  debouching  at 
last  into  a  broad  blue  lake-like  expanse  of 
alfalfa  meadows.  In  vain  I  strained  my 
eyes  over  the  monotonous  level;  nothing 
appeared  to  rise  above  or  move  across  it.  In 
the  faint  hope  that  she  might  have  lingered 
at  the  hacienda,  I  was  spurring  on  again 
when  I  heard  a  slight  splashing  on  my  left. 
I  looked  around.  A  broad  patch  of  fresher- 
colored  herbage  and  a  cluster  of  dwarfed 
alders  indicated  a  hidden  spring.  I  cau 
tiously  approached  its  quaggy  edges,  when  I 
was  shocked  by  what  appeared  to  be  a  sud 
den  vision !  Mid-leg  deep  in  the  centre  of 
a  greenish  pool  stood  Chu  Chu !  But  with 
out  a  strap  or  buckle  of  harness  upon  her  — 
as  naked  as  when  she  was  foaled ! 

For  a  moment  I  could  only  stare  at  her 
in  bewildered  terror.  Far  from  recognizing 
me,  she  seemed  to  be  absorbed  in  a  nymph- 
like  contemplation  of  her  own  graces  in  the 
pool.  Then  I  called  "  Consuelo  !  "  and  gal 
loped  frantically  around  the  spring.  But 
there  was  no  response,  nor  was  there  any 
thing  to  be  seen  but  the  all-unconscious  Chu 
Chu.  The  pool,  thank  Heaven!  was  not 
deep  enough  to  have  drowned  any  one ;  there 


308  CHU  CHU. 

were  no  signs  of  a  struggle  on  its  quaggy 
edges.  The  horse  might  have  come  from  a 
distance !  I  galloped  on,  still  calling.  A 
few  hundred  yards  further  I  detected  the 
vivid  glow  of  Chu  Chu's  scarlet  saddle- 
blanket,  in  the  brush  near  the  trail.  My 
heart  leaped — I  was  on  the  track.  I  called 
again ;  this  time  a  faint  reply,  in  accents  I 
knew  too  well,  came  from  the  field  beside 


me 


Consuelo  was  there!  reclining  beside  a 
manzanita  bush  which  screened  her  from  the 
road,  in  what  struck  me,  even  at  that  su 
preme  moment,  as  a  judicious  and  pictu 
resquely  selected  couch  of  scented  Indian 
grass  and  dry  tussocks.  The  velvet  hat 
with  its  balls  of  scarlet  plush  was  laid  care 
fully  aside ;  her  lovely  blue-black  hair  re 
tained  its  tight  coils  undisheveled,  her  eyes 
were  luminous  and  tender.  Shocked  as  I 
was  at  her  apparent  helplessness,  I  remem 
ber  being  impressed  with  the  fact  that  it 
gave  so  little  indication  of  violent  usage  or 
disaster. 

I  threw  myself  frantically  on  the  ground 
beside  her. 

"  You  are  hurt,  Consita !  For  Heaven's 
sake,  what  has  happened  ?  " 


cnu  cnu.  309 

She  pushed  my  hat  back  with  her  little 
hand,  and  tumbled  my  hair  gently. 

"  Nothing.  You  are  here,  Pancho  —  eet 
is  enof e !  What  shall  come  after  thees  — 
when  I  am  perhaps  gone  among  the  grave  — 
make  nothing !  You  are  here  —  I  am  happy. 
For  a  little,  perhaps  —  not  mooch." 

"  But,"  I  went  on  desperately,  "  was  it  an 
accident  ?  Were  you  thrown  ?  Was  it  Chu 
Chu  ?  "  —  for  somehow,  in  spite  of  her  lan 
guid  posture  and  voice,  I  could  not,  even  in 
my  fears,  believe  her  seriously  hurt. 

"  Beat  not  the  poor  beast,  Pancho.  It  is 
not  from  her  comes  thees  thing.  She  have 
make  nothing  —  believe  me!  I  have  come 
upon  your  assignation  with  Miss  Essmith! 
I  make  but  to  pass  you  —  to  fly  —  to  never 
come  back !  I  have  say  to  Chu  Chu,  *  Fly ! ' 
We  fly  many  miles.  Sometimes  together, 
sometimes  not  so  mooch !  Sometimes  in 
the  saddle,  sometimes  on  the  neck !  Many 
things  remain  in  the  road ;  at  the  end,  I  my 
self  remain !  I  have  say,  '  Courage,  Pancho 
will  come ! '  Then  I  say,  *  No,  he  is  talk 
with  Miss  Essmith ! '  I  remember  not  more. 
I  have  creep  here  on  the  hands.  Eet  is  fee- 
nish!" 

I  looked  at  her  distractedly.     She  smiled 


310  CBU  CHU. 

tenderly,  and  slightly  smoothed  down  and 
rearranged  a  fold  of  her  dress  to  cover  her 
delicate  little  boot. 

"But,"  I  protested,  "you  are  not  much 
hurt,  dearest.  You  have  broken  no  bones. 
Perhaps,"  I  added,  looking  at  the  boot, 
"  only  a  slight  sprain.  Let  me  carry  you  to 
my  horse ;  I  will  walk  beside  you,  home. 
Do,  dearest  Consita  !  " 

She  turned  her  lovely  eyes  towards  me 
sadly.  "  You  comprehend  not,  my  poor 
Pancho!  It  is  not  of  the  foot,  the  ankle, 
the  arm,  or  the  head  that  I  can  say,  *  She  is 
broke ! '  I  would  it  were  even  so.  But "  — 
she  lifted  her  sweet  lashes  slowly  —  "I  have 
derrange  my  inside.  It  is  an  affair  of  my 
family.  My  grandfather  have  once  toomble 
over  the  bull  at  a  rodeo.  He  speak  no 
more  ;  he  is  dead.  For  why  ?  He  has  der 
range  his  inside.  Believe  me,  it  is  of  the 
family.  You  comprehend?  The  Saltellos 
are  not  as  the  other  peoples  for  this.  When 
I  am  gone,  you  will  bring  to  me  the  berry 
to  grow  upon  my  tomb,  Pancho ;  the  berry 
you  have  picked  for  me.  The  little  flower 
will  come  too,  the  little  star  will  arrive,  but 
Consuelo,  who  lofe  you,  she  will  come  not 
more !  When  you  are  happy  and  talk  in 


CHU  CHU.  311 

the  road  to  the  Essmith,  you  will  not  think 
of  me.  You  will  not  see  my  eyes,  Pancho  ; 
thees  little  grass  "  —  she  ran  her  plump  lit 
tle  fingers  through  a  tussock  —  "will  hide 
them;  and  the  small  animals  hi  the  black 
coats  that  lif  here  will  have  much  sorrow  — 
but  you  will  not.  It  ees  better  so!  My 
father  will  not  that  I,  a  Catholique,  should 
marry  into  a  camp-meeting,  and  lif  in  a 
tent,  and  make  howl  like  the  coyote."  (It 
was  one  of  Consuelo's  bewildering  beliefs 
that  there  was  only  one  form  of  dissent  — 
Methodism  !)  "  He  will  not  that  I  should 
marry  a  man  who  possess  not  the  many 
horses,  ox,  and  cow,  like  him.  But  /care 
not.  You  are  my  only  religion,  Pancho! 
I  have  enofe  of  the  horse,  and  ox,  and  cow 
when  you  are  with  me  !  Kiss  me,  Pancho. 
Perhaps  it  is  for  the  last  tune  —  the  fee- 
nish !  Who  knows  ?  " 

There  were  tears  in  her  lovely  eyes  ;  I  felt 
that  my  own  were  growing  dim ;  the  sun 
was  sinking  over  the  dreary  plain  to  the  slow 
rising  of  the  wind ;  an  infinite  loneliness 
had  fallen  upon  us,  and  yet  I  was  miserably 
conscious  of  some  dreadful  unreality  in  it  all. 
A  desire  to  laugh,  which  I  felt  must  be 
hysterical,  was  creeping  over  me ;  I  dared 


312  CHU  CHU. 

not  speak.  But  her  dear  head  was  on  my 
shoulder,  and  the  situation  was  not  unpleas 
ant. 

Nevertheless,  something  must  be  done! 
This  was  the  more  difficult  as  it  was  by  110 
means  clear  what  had  already  been  done. 
Even  while  I  supported  her  drooping  figure 
I  was  straining  my  eyes  across  her  shoulder 
for  succor  of  some  kind.  Suddenly  the 
figure  of  a  rapid  rider  appeared  upon  the 
road.  It  seemed  familiar.  I  looked  again  — 
it  was  the  blessed  Enriquez!  A  sense  of 
deep  relief  came  over  me.  I  loved  Con- 
suelo ;  but  never  before  had  lover  ever 
hailed  the  irruption  of  one  of  his  beloved's 
family  with  such  complacency. 

"  You  are  safe,  dearest ;  it  is  Enriquez  !  " 

I  thought  she  received  the  information 
coldly.  Suddenly  she  turned  upon  me  her 
eyes,  now  bright  and  glittering.  "  Swear  to 
me  at  the  instant,  Pancho,  that  you  will  not 
again  look  upon  Miss  Essmith,  even  for 
once." 

I  was  simple  and  literal.  Miss  Smith 
was  my  nearest  neighbor,  and,  unless  I  was 
stricken  with  blindness,  compliance  was  im 
possible.  I  hesitated  —  but  swore. 

"Enofe —  you  have  hesitate  —  I  will  no 
more." 


CHU  CHU.  313 

She  rose  to  her  feet  with  grave  delibera 
tion.  For  an  instant,  with  the  recollection 
of  the  delicate  internal  organization  of  the 
Saltellos  on  my  mind,  I  was  in  agony  lest 
she  should  totter  and  fall,  even  then,  yield 
ing  up  her  gentle  spirit  on  the  spot.  But 
when  I  looked  again  she  had  a  hairpin  be 
tween  her  white  teeth,  and  was  carefully 
adjusting  her  toreador  hat.  And  beside  us 
was  Enriquez  —  cheerful,  alert,  voluble, 
and  undaunted. 

"  Eureka !  I  have  found  !  We  are  all 
here !  Eet  is  a  leetle  public  —  eh !  a  leetle 
too  much  of  a  front  seat  for  a  tete-a-tete, 
my  yonge  friends,"  he  said,  glancing  at  the 
remains  of  Consuelo's  bower,  "  but  for  the 
accounting  of  taste  there  is  none.  What 
will  you  ?  The  meat  of  the  one  man  shall 
envenom  the  meat  of  the  other.  But  "  (in  a 
whisper  to  me)  "  as  to  thees  horse  —  thees 
Chu  Chu,  which  I  have  just  pass  —  why  is 
she  undress  ?  Surely  you  would  not  make 
an  exposition  of  her  to  the  traveler  to  sus 
pect  !  And  if  not,  why  so  ?  " 

I  tried  to  explain,  looking  at  Consuelo, 
that  Chu  Chu  had  run  away,  that  Consuelo 
had  met  with  a  terrible  accident,  had  been 
thrown,  and  I  feared  had  suffered  serious 


314  CHU  CHU. 

internal  injury.  But  to  my  embarrassment 
Consuelo  maintained  a  half  scornful  silence, 
and  an  inconsistent  freshness  of  healthful 
indifference,  as  Enriquez  approached  her 
with  an  engaging  smile.  "Ah,  yes,  she 
have  the  headache,  and  the  molligrubs. 
She  will  sit  on  the  damp  stone  when  the 
gentle  dew  is  falling.  I  comprehend. 
Meet  me  in  the  lane  when  the  clock  strike 
nine !  But,"  in  a  lower  voice,  "  of  thees 
undress  horse  I  comprehend  nothing !  Look 
you  —  it  is  sad  and  strange." 

He  went  off  to  fetch  Chu  Chu,  leaving 
me  and  Consuelo  alone.  I  do  not  think  I 
ever  felt  so  utterly  abject  and  bewildered 
before  in  my  life.  Without  knowing  why, 
I  was  miserably  conscious  of  having  in  some 
way  offended  the  girl  for  whom  I  believed  I 
would  have  given  my  life,  and  I  had  made 
her  and  myself  ridiculous  in  the  eyes  of  her 
brother.  I  had  again  failed  in  my  slower 
Western  nature  to  understand  her  high  ro 
mantic  Spanish  soul!  Meantime  she  was 
smoothing  out  her  riding-habit,  and  looking 
as  fresh  and  pretty  as  when  she  first  left 
her  house. 

"  Consita,"  I  said  hesitatingly,  "  you  are 
not  angry  with  me  ?  " 


CHU  CHU.  315 

"  Angry  ?  "  she  repeated  haughtily,  with 
out  looking  at  me.  "  Oh,  no  !  Of  a  possi 
bility  eet  is  Mees  Essmith  who  is  angry 
that  I  have  interroopt  her  tete-a-tete  with 
you,  and  have  send  here  my  brother  to  make 
the  same  with  me." 

"  But,"  I  said  eagerly,  "  Miss  Smith  does 
not  even  know  Enriquez  !  " 

Consuelo  turned  on  me  a  glance  of  un 
utterable  significance.  "  Ah !  "  she  said 
darkly,  "  you  tink  !  " 

Indeed  I  knew.  But  here  I  believed  I 
understood  Consuelo,  and  was  relieved.  I 
even  ventured  to  say  gently,  "  And  you  are 
better?  " 

She  drew  herself  up  to  her  full  height, 
which  was  not  much.  "  Of  my  health,  what 
is  it  ?  A  nothing.  Yes !  Of  my  soul  let 
us  not  speak." 

Nevertheless,  when  Enriquez  appeared 
with  Chu  Chu  she  ran  towards  her  with  out 
stretched  arms.  Chu  Chu  protruded  about 
six  inches  of  upper  lip  in  response  —  appar 
ently  under  the  impression,  which  I  could 
quite  understand,  that  her  mistress  was 
edible.  And,  I  may  have  been  mistaken, 
but  their  beautiful  eyes  met  in  an  absolute 
and  distinct  glance  of  intelligence ! 


316  CHU  CHU. 

During  the  home  journey  Consuelo  re- 
covered  her  spirits,  and  parted  from  me  with 
a  magnanimous  and  forgiving  pressure  of 
the  hand.  I  do  not  know  what  explanation 
of  Chu  Chu's  original  escapade  was  given  to 
Enriquez  and  the  rest  of  the  family  ;  the  in 
scrutable  forgiveness  extended  to  me  by 
Consuelo  precluded  any  further  inquiry  on 
my  part.  I  was  willing  to  leave  it  a  secret 
between  her  and  Chu  Chu.  But,  strange  to 
say,  it  seemed  to  complete  our  own  under 
standing,  and  precipitated,  not  only  our  love- 
making,  but  the  final  catastrophe  which  cul 
minated  that  romance.  For  we  had  resolved 
to  elope.  I  do  not  know  that  this  heroic 
remedy  was  absolutely  necessary  from  the 
attitude  of  either  Consuelo's  family  or  my 
own ;  I  am  inclined  to  think  we  preferred 
it,  because  it  involved  no  previous  explana 
tion  or  advice.  Need  I  say  that  our  confi 
dant  and  firm  ally  was  Consuelo's  brother 
—  the  alert,  the  linguistic,  the  ever-happy, 
ever-ready  Enriquez!  It  was  understood 
that  his  presence  would  not  only  give  a 
certain  mature  respectability  to  our  per 
formance  —  but  I  do  not  think  we  would 
have  contemplated  this  step  without  it. 
During  one  of  our  riding  excursions  we 


CHU  CHU.  317 

were  to  secure  the  services  of  a  Methodist 
minister  in  the  adjoining  county,  and,  later, 
that  of  the  Mission  padre  —  when  the  secret 
was  out.  "  I  will  gif  her  away,"  said  Enri- 
quez  confidently,  "  it  will  on  the  instant 
propitiate  the  old  shadbelly  who  shall  per 
form  the  affair,  and  withhold  his  jaw.  A 
little  chin-music  from  your  oncle  'Arry 
shall  finish  it !  Remain  tranquil  and  forget 
not  a  ring !  One  does  not  always,  in  the 
agony  and  dissatisfaction  of  the  moment,  a 
ring  remember.  I  shall  bring  two  in  the 
pocket  of  my  dress." 

If  I  did  not  entirely  participate  in  this 
roseate  view  it  may  have  been  because  Enri- 
quez,  although  a  few  years  my  senior,  was 
much  younger-looking,  and  with  his  demure 
deviltry  of  eye,  and  his  upper  lip  close 
shaven  for  this  occasion,  he  suggested  a 
depraved  acolyte  rather  than  a  responsible 
member  of  a  family.  Consuelo  had  also 
confided  to  me  that  her  father  —  possibly 
owing  to  some  rumors  of  our  previous  es 
capade  —  had  forbidden  any  further  excur 
sions  with  me  alone.  The  innocent  man 
did  not  know  that  Chu  Chu  had  forbidden 
it  also,  and  that  even  on  this  momentous 
occasion  both  Enriquez  and  myself  were 


318  CHU  CHU. 

obliged  to  ride  in  opposite  fields  like  out- 
flankers.  But  we  nevertheless  felt  the  full 
guilt  of  disobedience  added  to  our  des 
perate  enterprise.  Meanwhile,  although 
pressed  for  time,  and  subject  to  discovery  at 
any  moment,  I  managed  at  certain  points  of 
the  road  to  dismount  and  walk  beside  Chu 
Chu  (who  did  not  seem  to  recognize  me  on 
foot),  holding  Consuelo's  hand  in  my  own, 
with  the  discreet  Enriquez  leading  my  horse 
in  the  distant  field.  I  retain  a  very  vivid 
picture  of  that  walk  —  the  ascent  of  a  gen 
tle  slope  towards  a  prospect  as  yet  unknown, 
but  full  of  glorious  possibilities ;  the  tender 
dropping  light  of  an  autumn  sky,  slightly 
filmed  with  the  promise  of  the  future  rains, 
like  foreshadowed  tears,  and  the  half  fright 
ened,  half  serious  talk  into  which  Consuelo 
and  I  had  insensibly  fallen.  And  then,  I 
don't  know  how  it  happened,  but  as  we 
reached  the  summit  Chu  Chu  suddenly 
reared,  wheeled,  and  the  next  moment  was 
flying  back  along  the  road  we  had  just  trav 
eled,  at  the  top  of  her  speed !  It  might 
have  been  that,  after  her  abstracted  fashion, 
she  only  at  that  moment  detected  my  pres 
ence  ;  but  so  sudden  and  complete  was  her 
evolution  that  before  I  could  regain  my 


CHU  cnu.  319 

horse  from  the  astonished  Enriquez  she  was 
already  a  quarter  of  a  mile  on  the  homeward 
stretch,  with  the  frantic  Consuelo  pulling 
hopelessly  at  the  bridle.  We  started  in  pur 
suit.  But  a  horrible  despair  seized  us.  To 
attempt  to  overtake  her,  to  even  follow  at 
the  same  rate  of  speed  would  only  excite 
Chu  Chu  and  endanger  Consuelo's  life. 
There  was  absolutely  no  help  for  it,  no 
thing  could  be  done ;  the  mare  had  taken 
her  determined  long,  continuous  stride,  the 
road  was  a  straight,  steady  descent  all  the 
way  back  to  the  village,  Chu  Chu  had  the 
bit  between  her  teeth,  and  there  was  no 
prospect  of  swerving  her.  We  could  only 
follow  hopelessly,  idiotically,  furiously,  until 
Chu  Chu  dashed  triumphantly  into  the  Sal- 
tellos'  courtyard,  carrying  the  half-fainting 
Consuelo  back  to  the  arms  of  her  assembled 
and  astonished  family. 

It  was  our  last  ride  together.  It  was  the 
last  I  ever  saw  of  Consuelo  before  her  trans 
fer  to  the  safe  seclusion  of  a  convent  in 
Southern  California.  It  was  the  last  I  ever 
;-  saw  of  Chu  Chu,  who  in  the  confusion  of 
that  rencontre  was  overlooked  in  her  half- 
loosed  harness,  and  allowed  to  escape 
through  the  back  gate  to  the  fields.  Months 


320  CHU  CHU. 

afterwards  it  was  said  that  she  had  been 
identified  among  a  band  of  wild  horses  in 
the  Coast  Range,  as  a  strange  and  beautiful 
creature  who  had  escaped  the  brand  of  the 
rodeo  and  had  become  a  myth.  There  was 
another  legend  that  she  had  been  seen, 
sleek,  fat,  and  gorgeously  caparisoned, 
issuing  from  the  gateway  of  the  Rosario 
patio,  before  a  lumbering  Spanish  cabriole 
in  which  a  short,  stout  matron  was  seated  — 
but  I  will  have  none  of  it.  For  there  are 
days  when  she  still  lives,  and  I  can  see  her 
plainly  still  climbing  the  gentle  slope  to 
wards  the  summit,  with  Consuelo  on  her 
back,  and  myself  at  her  side,  pressing 
eagerly  forward  towards  the  illimitable 
prospect  that  opens  in  the  distance. 


MY  FIRST  BOOK. 


WHEN  I  say  that  my  "  First  Book"  was 
not  my  own,  and  contained  beyond  the  title- 
page  not  one  word  of  my  own  composition, 
I  trust  that  I  will  not  be  accused  of  trifling 
with  paradox,  or  tardily  unbosoming  myself 
of  youthful  plagiary.  But  the  fact  remains 
that  in  priority  of  publication  the  first  book 
for  which  I  became  responsible,  and  which 
probably  provoked  more  criticism  than  any 
thing  I  have  written  since,  was  a  small  com 
pilation  of  Californian  poems  indited  by 
other  hands. 

A  well-known  bookseller  of  San  Francis 
co  one  day  handed  me  a  collection  of  certain 
poems  which  had  already  appeared  in  Pa 
cific  Coast  magazines  and  newspapers,  with 
the  request  that  I  should,  if  possible,  secure 
further  additions  to  them,  and  then  make  a 
selection  of  those  which  I  considered  the 
most  notable  and  characteristic,  for  a  single 
volume  to  be  issued  by  him.  I  have  reason 
to  believe  that  this  unfortunate  man  was 


322  MY  FIRST  BOOK. 

actutated  by  a  laudable  desire  to  publish  a 
pretty  California!!  book  —  his  first  essay  in 
publication  —  and  at  the  same  time  to  fos 
ter  Eastern  immigration  by  an  exhibit  of  the 
Califorhian  literary  product;  but,  looking 
back  upon  his  venture,  I  am  inclined  to 
think  that  the  little  volume  never  contained 
anything  more  poetically  pathetic  or  touch- 
ingly  imaginative  than  that  gentle  concep 
tion.  Equally  simple  and  trustful  was  his 
selection  of  myself  as  compiler.  It  was 
based  somewhat,  I  think,  upon  the  fact  that 
"  the  artless  Helicon "  I  boasted  "  was 
Youth,"  but  I  imagine  it  was  chiefly  owing 
to  the  circumstance  that  I  had  from  the  out 
set,  with  precocious  foresight,  confided  to 
him  my  intention  of  not  putting  any  of  my 
own  verses  in  the  volume.  Publishers  are 
appreciative  ;  and  a  self-abnegation  so  sub 
lime,  to  say  nothing  of  its  security,  was  not 
without  its  effect. 

We  settled  to  our  work  with  fatuous  self- 
complacency,  and  no  suspicion  of  the  trouble 
in  store  for  us,  or  the  storm  that  was  to 
presently  hurtle  around  our  devoted  heads. 
I  winnowed  the  poems,  and  he  exploited  a 
preliminary  announcement  to  an  eager  and 
waiting  press,  and  we  moved  together  un- 


MY  FIRST  BOOK.  323 

wittingly  to  our  doom.  I  remember  to  have 
been  early  struck  with  the  quantity  of  mate 
rial  coming  in  — evidently  the  result  of 
some  popular  misunderstanding  of  the  an 
nouncement.  I  found  myself  in  daily  and 
hourly  receipt  of  sere  and  yellow  fragments, 
originally  torn  from  some  dead  and  gone 
newspaper,  creased  and  seamed  from  long 
folding  in  wallet  or  pocketbook.  Need  I 
say  that  most  of  them  were  of  an  emotional 
or  didactic  nature  ;  need  I  add  any  criticism 
of  these  homely  souvenirs,  often  discolored 
by  the  morning  coffee,  the  evening  tobacco, 
or,  Heaven  knows !  perhaps  blotted  by  too 
easy  tears  !  Enough  that  I  knew  now  what 
had  become  of  those  original  but  never  re- 
copied  verses  which  filled  the  "  Poet's  Cor 
ner  "  of  every  country  newspaper  on  the 
coast.  I  knew  now  the  genesis  of  every  di 
dactic  verse  that  "coldly  furnished  forth 
the  marriage  table"  in  the  announcement  of 
weddings  in  the  rural  press.  I  knew  now 
who  had  read  — and  possibly  indited  — the 
dreary  hicjacets  of  the  dead  in  their  mourn 
ing  columns.  I  knew  now  why  certain  let 
ters  of  the  alphabet  had  been  more  tenderly 
considered  than  others,  and  affectionately 
addressed.  I  knew  the  meaning  of  the 


324  MY  FIRST  BOOK. 

"Lines  to  Her  who  can  best  understand 
them,"  and  I  knew  that  they  had  been  un 
derstood.  The  morning's  post  buried  my 
table  beneath  these  withered  leaves  of  post 
humous  passion.  They  lay  there  like  the 
pathetic  nosegays  of  quickly  fading  wild 
flowers,  gathered  by  school  children,  incon 
sistently  abandoned  upon  roadsides,  or  as 
inconsistently  treasured  as  limp  and  flabby 
superstitions  in  their  desks.  The  chill  wind 
from  the  Bay  blowing  in  at  the  window 
seemed  to  rustle  them  into  sad  articulate 
appeal.  I  remember  that  when  one  of  them 
was  whisked  from  the  window  by  a  stronger 
gust  than  usual,  and  was  attaining  a  circula 
tion  it  had  never  known  before,  I  ran  a  block 
or  two  to  recover  it.  I  was  young  then,  and 
in  an  exalted  sense  of  editorial  responsibility 
which  I  have  since  survived,  I  think  I 
turned  pale  at  the  thought  that  the  reputa 
tion  of  some  unknown  genius  might  have 
thus  been  swept  out  and  swallowed  by  the 
all-absorbing  sea. 

There  were  other  difficulties  arising  from 
this  unexpected  wealth  of  material.  There 
were  dozens  of  poems  on  the  same  subject. 
"The  Golden  Gate,"  "Mount  Shasta," 
"  The  Yosemite,"  were  especially  provoca- 


MY  FIRST  BOOK.  325 

tive.  A  beautiful  bird  known  as  the  "  Cal 
if  ornian  Canary  "  appeared  to  have  been 
shot  at  and  winged  by  every  poet  from  Port 
land  to  San  Diego.  Lines  to  the  "  Maripo- 
sa"  flower  were  as  thick  as  the  lovely  blos 
soms  themselves  in  the  Merced  valley,  and 
the  Madrone  tree  was  as  "berhymed"  as 
Rosalind.  Again,  by  a  liberal  construction 
of  the  publisher's  announcement,  manu 
script  poems,  which  had  never  known  print, 
began  to  coyly  unfold  their  virgin  blossoms 
in  the  morning's  mail.  They  were  accom 
panied  by  a  few  lines  stating,  casually,  that 
their  sender  had  found  them  lying  forgotten 
in  his  desk,  or,  mendaciously,  that  they 
were  "  thrown  off  "  on  the  spur  of  the  mo 
ment  a  few  hours  before.  Some  of  the 
names  appended  to  them  astonished  me. 
Grave,  practical  business  men,  sage  finan 
ciers,  fierce  speculators,  and  plodding  trad 
ers,  never  before  suspected  of  poetry,  or 
even  correct  prose,  were  among  the  contrib 
utors.  It  seemed  as  if  most  of  the  able- 
bodied  inhabitants  of  the  Pacific  Coast  had 
been  in  the  habit  at  some  time  of  express 
ing  themselves  in  verse.  Some  sought  con 
fidential  interviews  with  the  editor.  The 
climax  was  reached  when,  in  Montgomery 


326  MY  FIRST  BOOK. 

Street,  one  day,  I  was  approached  by  a  well- 
known  and  venerable  judicial  magnate 
After  some  serious  preliminary  conversa 
tion,  the  old  gentleman  finally  alluded  to 
what  he  was  pleased  to  call  a  task  of  "  great 
delicacy  and  responsibility"  laid  upon  my 
"  young  shoulders."  "  In  fact,"  he  went  on 
paternally,  adding  the  weight  of  his  judicial 
hand  to  that  burden,  "  I  have  thought  of 
speaking  to  you  about  it.  In  my  leisure 
moments  on  the  Bench  I  have,  from  time  to 
time,  polished  and  perfected  a  certain  col 
lege  poem  begun  years  ago,  but  which  may 
now  be  said  to  have  been  finished  in  Cali 
fornia,  and  thus  embraced  in  the  scope  of 
your  proposed  selection.  If  a  few  extracts, 
selected  by  myself,  to  save  you  all  trouble 
and  responsibility,  be  of  any  benefit  to  you, 
my  dear  young  friend,  consider  them  at 
your  service." 

In  this  fashion  the  contributions  had  in 
creased  to  three  times  the  bulk  of  the  origi 
nal  collection,  and  the  difficulties  of  selec 
tion  were  augmented  in  proportion.  The 
editor  and  publisher  eyed  each  other  aghast 
"  Never  thought  there  were  so  many  of  the 
blamed  things  alive,"  said  the  latter  with 
great  simplicity,  "  had  you  ?  "  The  editor 


MY  FIRST  BOOK.  327 

had  not.  "  Could  n't  you  sorter  shake  'em 
up  and  condense  'em,  you  know?  keep 
their  ideas  —  and  their  names  —  separate, 
so  that  they  'd  have  proper  credit.  See  ?  " 
The  editor  pointed  out  that  this  would  in 
fringe  the  rule  he  had  laid  down.  "  I  see," 
said  the  publisher  thoughtfully ;  "  well, 
could  n't  you  pare  'em  down  ;  give  the  first 
verse  entire  and  sorter  sample  the  others  ?  " 
The  editor  thought  not.  There  was  clearly 
nothing  to  do  but  to  make  a  more  rigid  se 
lection  — a  difficult  performance  when  the 
material  was  uniformly  on  a  certain  dead 
level,  which  it  is  not  necessary  to  define 
here.  Among  the  rejections  were,  of  course, 
the  usual  plagiarisms  from  well-known  au 
thors  imposed  upon  an  inexperienced  coun 
try  press  ;  several  admirable  pieces  detected 
as  acrostics  of  patent  medicines,  and  certain 
veiled  libels  and  indecencies  such  as  mark 
the  "  first  "  publications  on  blank  walls  and 
fences  of  the  average  youth.  Still  the  bulk 
remained  too  large,  and  the  youthful  editor 
set  to  work  reducing  it  still  more  with  a 
sympathizing  concern  which  the  good-nat 
ured,  but  unliterary,  publisher  failed  to  un 
derstand,  and  which,  alas!  proved  to  be 
equally  unappreciated  by  the  rejected  con 
tributors. 


328  MY  FIRST  BOOK. 

The  book  appeared  —  a  pretty  little  volume 
typographically,  and  externally  a  credit  to 
pioneer  book-making.  Copies  were  liber 
ally  supplied  to  the  press,  and  authors  and 
publishers  self-complacently  awaited  the  re 
sult.  To  the  latter  this  should  have  been 
satisfactory  ;  the  book  sold  readily  from  his 
well-known  counters  to  purchasers  who 
seemed  to  be  drawn  by  a  singular  curiosity, 
unaccompanied,  however,  by  any  critical 
comment.  People  would  lounge  in  to  the 
shop,  turn  over  the  leaves  of  other  volumes, 
say  carelessly,  "  Got  a  new  book  of  Califor 
nia  poetry  out,  haven't  you  ?  "  purchase  it, 
and  quietly  depart.  There  were  as  yet  no 
notices  from  the  press ;  the  big  dailies  were 
silent ;  there  was  something  ominous  in  this 
calm. 

Out  of  it  the  bolt  fell.  A  well-known 
mining  weekly,  which  I  here  poetically  veil 
under  the  title  of  the  Red  Dog  "  Jay 
Hawk,"  was  first  to  swoop  down  upon  the 
tuneful  and  unsuspecting  quarry.  At  this 
century-end  of  fastidious  and  complaisant 
criticism,  it  may  be  interesting  to  recall  the 
direct  style  of  the  Californian  "sixties." 
"  The  hogwash  and  '  purp  '-stuff  ladled  out 
from  the  slop-bucket  of  Messrs. and 


MY  FIRST  BOOK.  329 

Co.,  of  'Frisco,  by  some  lop-eared  Eastern 
apprentice,  and  called  *  A  Compilation  of 
Californian  Verse,'  might  be  passed  over, 
so  far  as  criticism  goes.  A  club  in  the 
hands  of  any  able-bodied  citizen  of  Red 
Dog,  and  a  steamboat  ticket  to  the  Bay, 
cheerfully  contributed  from  this  office, 
would  be  all-sufficient.  But  when  an  im 
ported  greenhorn  dares  to  call  his  flapdoodle 
mixture  '  Californian,'  it  is  an  insult  to  the 
State  that  has  produced  the  gifted  '  Yellow 
Hammer,'  whose  lofty  flights  have  from 
time  to  time  dazzled  our  readers  in  the  col 
umns  of  the  '  Jay  Hawk.'  That  this  com 
placent  editorial  jackass,  browsing  among 
the  dock  and  thistles  which  he  has  served 
up  in  this  volume,  should  make  no  allusion 
to  California's  greatest  bard,  is  rather  a 
confession  of  his  idiocy  than  a  slur  upon  the 
genius  of  our  esteemed  contributor."  I 

s  turned  hurriedly  to  my  pile  of  rejected  con- 

<  tributions  —  the  nom  de  plume  of  "  Yellow 
Hammer "  did  not  appear  among  them ; 

'  certainly  I  had  never  heard  of  its  existence. 
Later,  when  a  friend  showed  me  one  of  that 
gifted  bard's  pieces,  I  was  inwardly  re 
lieved  !  It  was  so  like  the  majority  of  the 

other  verses,  in  and  out  of  the  volume,  that 


330  MY  FIRST  BOOK. 

the  mysterious  poet  might  have  written  un 
der  a  hundred  aliases.  But  the  Dutch  Flat 
"  Clarion,"  following,  with  no  uncertain 
sound,  left  me  small  time  for  consideration. 
"  We  doubt,"  said  that  journal,  "if  a  more 
feeble  collection  of  drivel  could  have  been 
made,  even  if  taken  exclusively  from  the 
editor's  own  verses,  which  we  note  he  has, 
by  an  equal  editorial  incompetency,  left  out 
of  the  volume.  When  we  add  that,  by  a  feli 
city  of  idiotic  selection,  this  person  has 
chosen  only  one,  and  the  least  characteristic, 
of  the  really  clever  poems  of  Adoniram 
Skaggs,  which  have  so  often  graced  these 
columns,  we  have  said  enough  to  satisfy  our 
readers."  The  Mormon  Hill  "  Quartz 
Crusher"  relieved  this  simple  directness 
with  more  fancy :  "  We  don't  know  why 

Messrs.  and  Co.  send  us,  under   the 

title  of  '  Selections  of  Californian  Poetry,' 
a  quantity  of  slumgullion  which  really  be 
longs  to  the  sluices  of  a  placer  mining  camp, 
or  the  ditches  of  the  rural  districts.  We  have 
sometimes  been  compelled  to  run  a  lot  of 
tailings  through  our  stamps,  but  never  of 
the  grade  9f  the  samples  offered,  which,  we 
should  say,  would  average  about  33-|  cents 
per  ton.  We  have,  however,  come  across  a 


MY  FIRST  BOOK.  331 

single  specimen  of  pure  gold  evidently  over 
looked  by  the  serene  ass  who  has  compiled 
this  volume.  We  copy  it  with  pleasure,  as 
it  has  already  shone  in  the  '  Poet's  Corner' 
of  the  '  Crusher '  as  the  gifted  effusion  of 
the  talented  Manager  of  the  Excelsior  Mill, 
otherwise  known  to  our  delighted  readers  as 
'  Outcrop.'  "  The  Green  Springs  "  Arcadi 
an"  was  no  less  fanciful  in  imagery: 

"  Messrs.  and  Co.  send  us    a  gaudy 

green-and-yellow,  parrot-colored  volume, 
which  is  supposed  to  contain  the  first  callow 
'  cheepings  '  and  '  peepings  '  of  Calif  ornian 
songsters.  From  the  flavor  of  the  speci 
mens  before  us  we  should  say  that  the  nest 
had  been  disturbed  prematurely.  There 
seems  to  be  a  good  deal  of  the  parrot  inside 
as  well  as  outside  the  covers,  and  we  con 
gratulate  our  own  sweet  singer  '  Blue  Bird,' 
who  has  so  often  made  these  columns  me 
lodious,  that  she  has  escaped  the  ignominy 

of  being  exhibited  in  Messrs. and  Co.'s 

aviary."  I  should  add  that  this  simile  of 
the  aviary  and  its  occupants  was  ominous, 
for  my  tuneful  choir  was  relentlessly 
slaughtered  ;  the  bottom  of  the  cage  was 
strewn  with  feathers !  The  big  dailies  col 
lected  the  criticisms  and  published  them  in 


332  MY  FIRST  BOOK. 

their  own  columns  with  the  grim  irony  of 
exaggerated  head-lines.  The  book  sold  tre 
mendously  on  account  of  this  abuse,  but  I 
am  afraid  that  the  public  was  disappointed. 
The  fun  and  interest  lay  in  the  criticisms, 
and  not  in  any  pointedly  ludicrous  quality 
in  the  rather  commonplace  collection,  and 
I  fear  I  cannot  claim  for  it  even  that 
merit.  And  it  will  be  observed  that  the 
animus  of  the  criticism  appeared  to  be  the 
omission  rather  than  the  retention  of  certain 
writers. 

But  this  brings  me  to  the  most  extraor 
dinary  feature  of  this  singular  demonstration. 
I  do  not  think  that  the  publishers  were  at 
all  troubled  by  it ;  I  cannot  conscientiously 
say  that  /  was  ;  I  have  every  reason  to  be 
lieve  that  the  poets  themselves,  in  and  out 
of  the  volume,  were  not  displeased  at  the 
notoriety  they  had  not  expected,  and  I  have 
long  since  been  convinced  that  my  most 
remorseless  critics  were  not  in  earnest,  but 
were  obeying  some  sudden  impulse  started 
by  the  first  attacking  journal.  The  extrava 
gance  of  the  Red  Dog  "Jay  Hawk"  was 
emulated  by  others :  it  was  a  large,  conta 
gious  joke,  passed  from  journal  to  journal  in 
a  peculiar  cyclonic  Western  fashion.  And 


MY  FIRST  BOOK.  333 

there  still  lingers,  not  unpleasantly,  in  my 
memory  the  conclusion  of  a  cheerfully  scath 
ing  review  of  the  book  which  may  make 
my  meaning  clearer  :  "  If  we  have  said  any 
thing  in  this  article  which  might  cause  a 
single  pang  to  the  poetically  sensitive  na 
ture  of  the  youthful  individual  calling  him 
self  Mr.  Francis  Bret  Harte  —  but  who,  we 
believe,  occasionally  parts  his  name  and  his 
hair  in  the  middle  —  we  will  feel  that 
we  have  not  labored  in  vain,  and  are  ready 
to  sing  Nunc  Dimittis,  and  hand  in  our 
checks.  We  have  no  doubt  of  the  abso 
lutely  pellucid  and  lacteal  purity  of  Franky's 
intentions.  He  means  well  to  the  Pacific 
Coast,  and  we  return  the  compliment.  But 
he  has  strayed  away  from  his  parents  and 
guardians  while  he  was  too  fresh.  He  will 
not  keep  without  a  little  salt." 

It  was  thirty  years  ago.  The  book  and  its 
Rabelaisian  criticisms  have  been  long  since 
forgotten.  Alas !  I  fear  that  even  the  ca 
pacity  for  that  Gargantuan  laughter  which 
met  them,  in  those  days,  exists  no  longer. 
The  names  I  have  used  are  necessarily  fic 
titious,  but  where  I  have  been  obliged  to 
quote  the  criticisms  from  memory  I  have,  I 
believe,  only  softened  their  asperity.  I  do 


334  MY  FIRST  BOOK. 

not  know  that  this  story  has  any  moral. 
The  criticisms  here  recorded  never  hurt 
a  reputation  nor  repressed  a  single  honest 
aspiration.  A  few  contributors  to  the  vol 
ume,  who  were  of  original  merit,  have  made 
their  mark,  independently  of  it  or  its  critics. 
The  editor,  who  was  for  two  months  the 
most  abused  man  on  the  Pacific  slope,  with 
in  the  year  became  the  editor  of  its  first 
successful  magazine.  Even  the  publisher 
prospered,  and  died  respected  I 


MAR  0  7  1978 


DATE  DUE 

| 

FEB     °  1QR4 

RfCpFEp       S  BM 

OAYLORD 

PRINTEDINU    S   A 

3  1970  00541  2421 


AL  LIBRARY  F 


ACILITY 


r\  /-\  '  • 

000307166    9 


